the flags have been flown

when travel is not limited by time
the journey will allow for proper leisure
we won't arrive all covered in grime

at our destination lies the treasure
the long-sought ancient noble artifact
whose very existence brings us pleasure

to tell the truth requires simple tact
beyond the word the thought takes shape
with all our power the the word is backed

the ocean is turned by one long cape
the salty spray awakes the sleepy mind
we pause and then rewind the tape

the message isn't lodged in what we find
uncertainty will govern all our deeds
and in that regard we're seldom ever blind

the breeze on the high pond bends reeds
the rise again the moment the wind falls
to know this does not satisfy all needs

but on the proper way to wisdom's halls
we must examine closely all that's said
the message on its upward journey crawls

from place to place from head to shiny head
we're forced to swift reliance on our feet
but know we'd rather have remained in bed

and what we've found is that the thing is sweet
that gives ups not just pause but light
as long as it doesn't bring us more heat

the message seldom arrives but at night
the placard has been nailed to a tall tree
we know that none will anguish at the sight

and when we halt we will have reached the sea