hoping for evening

now we have windows into vanished spaces
pasts that have gone almost beyond recall
each of us wonders at the sort of places

could be considered how the visions fall
not just upon the eye but on the heart
one keeps on looking soaking in it all

these are the creatures of some larger art
but we aren't the onces who should critique
we can't choose but to play a proper part

our lives and passions are no way unique
but we must live them and attempt to find
the thing that keeps us moving week to week

almost the passion makes us deaf and blind
but still the light that guides us does not fade
and our stern purpose is still kept in mind

so hot outside the lions seek the shade
their prey will just escape them in this heat
yet the mad human must go on parade

still the policeman must patrol his beat
and watch as shadows move at glacial pace
while others in cool water soak their feet

we're caught up in an ever-changing race
and yet we know we cannot truly run
and so must find some manner to save face

the brightest flower will quail before this sun
not one of us but will withhold our pride
the greatest player will not have any fun

so what the music issues from each side
we aren't the ones who want to hear the sound
at this point we just want to end the ride

and hold on to some tiny bit of ground
where we can make our simple claim of right
some such a paradise others have found

meanwhile we hope for a much kinder light