blame dull fate

where no one sits there’s no reason to wait

yet there are many who with sharp regard

look in the distance with eyes that are hard

to see what they can measure of the gait

or bearing of the folk whose heavy freight

will end like all things in the somber yard

together with the honest and disbarred

and all that we can do is blame dull fate

our vision does not fail yet when we glance

outside the window matters not so bold

will move us not to hope but unto ire

for what we know seems ruled by evil chance

while brilliant sunshine does nothing to cold

since long ago each chose to bank the fire

hardly a storm

your choices come down fast to none at all

an echo of the truth is no reward

since none will hear you if you have to call

out through the darkness that shall swiftly fall

when hope and vengeance reach their first accord

your choices come down fast to none at all

a world once large has rapidly grown small

and all good options have gone by the board

since none will hear you if you have to call

so half the planet listens to this brawl

while all the others look away quite bored

your choices come down fast to none at all

you've lost the plot been cast beyond the wall

finding out now just what you had deplored

since none will hear you if you have to call

in utter silence you confront the squall

with all the energy you can afford

your choices come down fast to none at all

since none will hear you if you have to call

uncertain of the cure

all that we know is measured in degrees

of silence or of truth that we declare

not loudly but most firmly into air

that has been purified by these dark trees

standing impassive in the midday breeze

while we afflicted by most reasoned fear

are not so hopeful that we’ll choose to dare

go through the woods to face the heat or freeze

no options are so good are purest chance

but all our wishes end up just as vain

as when we started so we must endure

let other figures enter in the dance

hope for the sun but buck up under rain

and face each ill uncertain of the cure

dead leaves

dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

their reds and yellows dull on the dark ground

so much of sorrow is already plain

to us who listen as the boughs complain

at the winds passage with a sighing sound

dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

are one more sign of life's passing campaign

against eternity this is one round

so much of sorrow is already plain

and we're the losers since we never gain

a single inch nor hope for a rebound

dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

are but the markers of our lost terrain

someone will come and heap them in a mound

so much of sorrow is already plain

it is reality nothing arcane

our normal vista not a thing profound

dead leaves piled up in the slow steady rain

so much of sorrow is already plain