facing the music

where feeling fails to tell us what we need
there's not a lot that we can hope to know
we see the river and we note its flow
and take no notice of the nodding reed
the thing for which not one of us would plead
appears in retrospect with noble glow
our choices come either too fast or slow
the propaganda's never in the deed
we look but there's so much we cannot see
a universe of wisdom but we'll fail
to find the answers or the simple sense
we must become we cannot simply be
or else we're trapped in problem and detail
so much to do before we must go hence