No High and Fluting Sentiment

I’d do it o’er, I’d do it o’er,
If only time could be undone
My now dragged back into the past
My words unraveled, fights unwon.

No high and fluting sentiment,
No deep and luted sorrow,
No thought or heart or wish or word
Makes yesterday tomorrow.

I’d say it better, put it right,
Not put you down like seed in ground,
Not hold my peace when called to speak
Nor speak when peace would not be found.

No high and fluting sentiment,
No deep and luted sorrow,
No thought or heart or wish or word
Makes yesterday tomorrow.

With wisdom earned of time now lived,
Another chance, a blotted page–
Turn back the cost, but leave the wage;
I’d walk to circumstance a sage,

No high and fluting sentiment,
No deep and luted sorrow,
No thought or heart or wish or word
Makes yesterday tomorrow.

What little insight I have gained
Cannot be spent on past poor takes,
Nor can the scene be shot again
Nor what’s spoke now be what I spake.

No high and fluting sentiment,
No deep and luted sorrow,
No thought or heart or wish or word
Makes yesterday tomorrow.

These bits and mites of priceless coin
So pinched from moments lived a-wrong
Can but be spent on moments met
Once one has walked from thence along.

No high and fluting sentiment,
No deep and luted sorrow,
No thought or heart or wish or word
Makes yesterday tomorrow.

And then—and then!—I cry my woe,
So small indeed is knowledge known,
When held to wisdom yet unwon
To thoughts unthought, unreaped, unsown.

No high and fluting sentiment,
No deep and luted sorrow,
No thought or heart or wish or word
Makes perfect now and morrow.

So day by day, I earn my way
The stumbler seeking feet like hind’s,
The fool by wise-ish foolishness
Seeks understanding, nearly blind.

No high and fluting sentiment,
Can halt past rents from tearing
No deep and luted sorrow now
Buys morrow’s faultless bearing.

And much is hurt and healed and made,
Is broken, beaten, lost, and found,
But though the road dips humbly low,
I move through time to higher ground.

Though thought and heart and wish and word
Cannot make perfect now or then,
I’ll think, and feel, and speak, and hope,
And hold my peace, and step again.

Bound to Stand

There is a hopelessness
like mirk’s morass,
that sweeps the hearts of men
in darkness vast,

It wonders if we’re
doomed to fail,
to ever stray from
narrow trail
and fall into the void.

And we are
Doomed to fail
Doomed to die
Bound to stand again and try.

The chasm is as deep,
as black as space,
and through it tumbles
Adam’s roiling race,

Searching hard
or running far,
how we wonder
what we are
within that fearful void.

And we are
Doomed to fail
Doomed to die
Bound to stand again and try.

But men still stand like suns
in stretching dark,
a pricking pin of light,
a hilltop spark.

Deeds of greatness
burning brightly,
tiny candle
re-lit nightly
to stand against the void.

And we are
Doomed to fail
Doomed to die
Bound to stand again and try.

There is a hope within
like burning sphere,
outnumbered by the
cold and dark and fear,

And yet when men
stare up at sky,
what do they look at,
count, and scry,
But diamonds in the void?

And we are
Doomed to fail
Doomed to die
Bound to stand again and try.

A latticework is laid,
the Milky Way.
Small flames can turn
the deepest dark to day.

The darkest hour
is but a cloud,
all open eyes
see past the shroud;
that starlight fills the void.

And dark is
Doomed to fail
Doomed to die
Bound to vanish, bound to fly,
For light is greater far than greatest void.

~

A poem I wrote some while back, pulled from my archives.