blind and unblessed

let memory speak not one of us will hear
life tells us that we must let all things go
we come upon them whether quick or slow
knowing that soon there'll be a change of gear
between the pylons each of us must steer
up and down hill in rain and mud and snow
through the calm air or during breezy blow
that is the way of things year after year
and yet my eyes are filled with angry tears
when i remember what there might have been
and all those things i once thought to desire
still horses charge onto the waiting spears
our eyes forget the many hurts we've seen
and we wait calmly for the coming fire