on the edge of magic

a radiance that we won't soon see
as green of leaf hides grey of tree
mind still ensnared in shade of night
hears voice in distance proclaiming spite
name one of these and it will fade
we're told just how the game is played
in the right place we'll set the lamp
and look outside at humid damp
there's never any chance for rest
yet we must make a jape or jest
a sort of thing that once possessed
would give us hope for some reward
still should we the true day accord
to grant our vision what was known
the kind of chance that one alone
would take but once you're in the swing
there's not a hope that this one thing
would let you torment your own heart
much sooner you'd your own self cart
to some old place where calm remained
the sort of thing you'd call unstained
unwithered and still fresh and new
under bare feet you'd feel the dew
yet morning passes and soon comes
the moment when day turns to crumbs
the stars return with clouds of night
obscurity shall mask the blight
now what possessed you to take heed
of ancient fain and fallen creed
now in the time that still remains
we want the fruit of your young brains
name all the things that may surpass
the sight of dew fresh on the grass
and you will find you still can't stand
on what is at last your own land