at end of winter

we cycle round and mark another year

when spring has come and buds are on the tree

the skies are light and pollen's in the air

what started in my heart as just a dare

(a challenge against fate) has come to be

we cycle round and mark another year

with greater hope and more reasons for care

as darker odours join the potpourri

the skies are light and pollen's in the air

but time's a gift that we don't have to spare

nor is good chance coming upon the sea

we cycle round and mark another year

by blending vacant smile and distant stare

with swift refusal of the things we see

the skies are light and pollen's in the air

those are the givens and all else is smear

upon the screen of life we cannot flee

we cycle round and mark another year

the skies are light and pollen's in the air

en arkhe kai o logos

the echoes never cease in time

so we are stuck on the cliff face

losers without redeeming grace

those farts that in primordial slime

began old evolution's race

(the echoes never cease in time)

now seem to us divine sublime

but were just stinks in some dark place

far from the light or so we trace

the echoes never cease in time

at the right angle

so much is wanted but what we must ask

is for the measure that cannot be told

by ordinary creatures at their task

of making worlds to fit the human mould

beyond the which we could not be consoled

but asked for pity and received no share

of what was paid except this empty air

so turning we discerned no further bar

to our escaping save a simple stair

the crescent mirror and the morning star

you give a good account behind your mask

of where the trail was good and where just cold

no warmth remains except within the flask

nor any honour that's not paid with gold

right on the table where the hearts are sold

while every victim hears the case is fair

and yet the axe does not strike unaware

there's no part of the process that's bizarre

while far above our unbowed heads there stare

the crescent mirror and the morning star

in balmier times we might hope to bask

in the approval of the good and bold

enjoy the plaudits while we broach the cask

and wonder why a single voice would scold

instead the angry lessons are unrolled

as every back is loaded down with care

nor is there chance of freedom anywhere

that foolish interlopers hope to mar

beyond the chances of the normal player

the crescent mirror and the morning star

prince in the end you won't respond to prayer

as no petition has the sort of flair

to touch the souls of palace and bazaar

yet you must go to where the boldest dare

the crescent mirror and the morning star