seen from verandahs

were we to choose a simple common way
there'd be a million who would follow hard
although we'd never promise better day
each of them growing eager with each yard
none thinking that the upward road was barred
there's nothing to which they might not aspire
and yet we keep hidden the triumphal card
life has its source in water but its end is fire

here in the mountain we can descry the bay
the shoreline now is desolate and scarred
no choice is here allowed either to go or stay
the onward route is not the one that's starred
the faces on the hillside have been marred
once its begun there's no chance to retire
the winner gets his name sung by the bard
life has its source in water but its end is fire

so we are asked to halt and stage the play
on boards now rotten warped and charred
while wild horses above us stamp and neigh
the champions have just come out and sparred
but for their prowess there's been no regard
the sun sinks westward lighting up the mire
its face seems pierced by a sudden shard
life has its source in water but its end in fire

prince of our hearts you know the avant-garde
are ever first in onset and latest to retire
do not be misled by some sly canard
life has its source in water but its end in fire