Never did

never-did

I never had authority, a uniform

so now, as age advances

and men in suits strut and utter

incoherent commands

I am more, not less confused

Their balance sheets and due diligence

find me straggling in a long column

of easily forgotten figures

wrapped in the inconvenient flag of conscience

But in that too there lacks an impetus

that will to fight has gone

and with it any hope

for the spoils of victory

The swagger of the coming man has gone

like a moon shadow

that softest of forms recedes

ambiguous in departure

from the territories of man and boy

going quietly to a greater dark

Forced optimism

Great stridesOh, the waste

As each day opens with sloth

And waits for duty or conscience to prick

The torpor that lays like fog

Over the mind, the body and the being

 

Oh, the slog

It is to inhabit clothes

That signify an aim in life

That indicate a desire to do

That will last the course and return to base

 

Oh, the hope

That in all of this recurring effort

The point should not be lost

That we are morsels, fragments of fate

Who can crawl around reason and smile

For we have plans