when time itself feels it must take a pause
we aren't surprised but find ourselves at peace
there is no reason and we find no cause
when time itself feels it must take a pause
not only aristotle played the tawse
on one who'd never ever be at ease
when time itself feels it must take a pause
we aren't surprised to find ourselves at peace
the endless chivvyings we make to cease
a moment and they're gone past any ken
a batsman wonders why he's at the crease
the endless chivvyings we make to cease
a moment here and there the wheels to grease
the trap is laid for tongue as well as pen
the endless chivvyings we make to cease
a moment and they're gone past any ken
no one's been trapped between the lake and fen
no signals have vibrated down the wire
we never seem to know the where or when
no one's been trapped between the lake and fen
an honest task for all women and men
means more than any master could require
no one's been trapped between the lake and fen
no signals have vibrated down the wire
we praise the lower instead of the higher
a duty we may have to serve the past
the only honest one turns out a liar
we praise the lower instead of the higher
the choice is never between ice and fire
we're told this but we find it false at last
we praise the lower instead of the higher
a duty we may have to serve the past
the flag still flies atop the highest mast
the purest symbol of desire and verve
we want to flee but find we must stand fast
the flag still flies above the highest mask
into the coldest waters you'll be cast
you won't come up till you have passed the curve
the flag still flies above the highest mast
the purest symbol of desire and verve
to rule requires great steadiness of nerve
and minds unblemished by the smallest flaws
you keep on straight you cannot bear to swerve
to rule requires great steadiness of nerve
the best of us know that we have to serve
obedient as always to stern laws
to rule requires great steadiness of nerve
and minds unblemished by the smallest flaws
Odd ravings, comments, and other wastes of time. Some are in plain prose, yet others are in rhyme.
21 November 2007
when we ascend
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment