the seats of honour and the high domain

all of our answers turn out to be true

though journeys start and end in pouring rain

there comes a time to pause and take the view

our knowledge is constrained by what is new

not by the old nor yet by thoughts of gain

all of our answers turn out to be true

since what we've done must constitute a coup

in favour of the honest and the plain

there comes a time to pause and take the view

of all the folk whose minds may yet construe

the simple vision that when we entrain

all of our answers turn out to be true

both to our hearts and to those who are due

the seats of honour and the high domain

there comes a time to pause and take the view

when all is clear and the noon sky full blue

we are redeemed by virtue of our pain

all of our answers turn out to be true

there comes a time to pause and take the view

all our limbs have bled

in what new name are honours to be read

by those who fall along the weary road

bearing the last and most unwanted load

of fear and horror no unblemished head

do we acknowledge all our limbs have bled

leaking the symbols of a hated code

while it was plain that nothing could corrode

either the cover or the weight of dread

but there's a message in the signal flame

as we who watch may come to understand

far past all bearing yet within our care

are those who know the truth is not a game

that all good matter comes within a hand

but must go free to rise up in the air

set the message straight

when all is measured time begins to grate

upon the senses then we have to start

a different sort of journey where the part

that makes our human feeling more than freight

is what's required to set the message straight

not only in the realms of work and art

but so the honest signal might depart

from deep inside to past the furthest gate

not every cloud is signal of new rain

or so we learn from waiting as each night

the sigh of wind brings us no fresh relief

from all our suffering and the hard pain

nor are the killer birds disturbed in flight

nor yet the door secured against the thief

fate may be a liar

here is a dragon that breathes golden fire

burning a message across the dull sky

telling us all that fate may be a liar

although we are the ones who still aspire

to honour in a world where all seems dry

here is a dragon that breathes golden fire

a vision that combines beauty and ire

reminder that some final truth is nigh

telling us all that fate may be a liar

that in the end both pain and joy are higher

than we expect or might ask to supply

here is a dragon that breathes golden fire

a mark of fear but still it is not dire

there's more above than we know to espy

telling us all that fate may be a liar

that is the burden of the early crier

who warns that those who care will come to die

here is a dragon that breathes golden fire

telling us all that fate may be a liar

their despairing trade

if there are ways to measure all the tale

in years of story how the shapes are made

without an edge of humour being frayed

by passing breeze or rough attacking gale

you'd say that we must in this wise assail

the aged creators of the human braid

for all the crimes of their despairing trade

before we mark their effort with a fail

no truths have been discovered by our kind

without an effort to disturb the soil

uproot the weeds and plant a better seed

so that the newer products of keen mind

emergent in the end from bitter toil

can match the urge exactly to the deed

the golden blow

we take the pummel since we have to ride

no need to fumble there’s a ready flow

though words are warmer life retains its glow

both here and where we  see high mountain’s side

wake in new green our hearts no longer hide

from the assertion that they truly know

what is their will we’ve seen the golden blow

after the panic and we share the pride

no worse disaster that we care to mark

in daily news or nightly tale of care

can come so close or make our souls to smart

but what’s important is the end of dark

erasure of the hard weight of despair

from where it lay upon each normal heart

no one regrets

emerging from the freighted dark no thought

but that the sky be clear and hands be filled

with all the needful that your warm hearts willed

when in good daylight the first words were caught

by eager listeners who had been taught

that not all prizes went to those best drilled

in the arcana of the freshly-killed

rather to ones who would account for naught

there is a victory that no one regrets

up in the hills when all the gifts are due

then hunters call and do not comprehend

the plainer meanings and the open sets

though when we have been silenced and review

our final forces we find there’s no end

at the commencement

at the commencement all the world was dared

for a small prize a kiss  and then a hope

so that the magic feeling would be shared

not by the ones whose  urgency was feared

as they came running down the morning slope

at the commencement all the world was dared

just so they could with justice be prepared

for honourable parting we elope

so that the magic feeling would be shared

in proper form and time by those who cared

more deeply and were happy they could cope

at the commencement all the world was dared

yet we survive while all the children stared

as new dawn seemed to offer yet more scope

so that the magic feeling would be shared

by all the folk who knew they had been spared

to hold with strength what they could barely grope

at the commencement all the world was dared

so that the magic feeling would be shared

truth's a toy

what’s left unknown weighs down  until we bleat

in rage and fear then leave off being bold

for better nights and stories wiser told

as those with longer practice wait the fleet

leaving the late ones to patrol the street

in angry silence so while it is cold

as the dew rises and the night turns old

the urgent and the foolish still may meet

this is the game of rats that always prey

upon the leavings that once made for joy

cast away now beneath the starless sky

as every denizen flees from the day

in certainty that even truth’s a toy

and honour turns out just another lie