And so around again:
the how, the where, the when;
could be and might have been;
the raven or the wren.
The sword versus the pen:
in battles now and then
it’s hard to tell who wins;
the line is blurred, and blends.
What’s up around the bend?
Who knows? To see us then
is merely to pretend,
to forecast of the end.
The currency we spend
for lies and hope depends
on credit from our friends
and how we limit them.
We dare not to offend
what might hide in the glen
awaiting living men
who march to war again.
How fast the truth descends!
Around our necks it wends
and gyres, while we extend
our courtesies. Amen.
Off round and round again;
we start, we end, we spin.
3 FEB 2017
