The Visitors
We grew and waxed bold, our shining image
There for all the world to see,
We changed the hoary old philosophies,
Rearranged the degenerate systems,
And no one noticed when we said good-bye;
We brought forth light for the enlightened,
Liberty for the captive,
Love for the lonely and dying,
New policies for the misguided;
We were not rewarded because we stood for truth
And executed everything to the end
Waiting for the day when the world would lift off
Its dark and cumbersome veil and see clearly again;
It was too soon, they were not ready,
Just an embryo in cosmic shell
Waiting to burst their bondage
Too cynical and selfish to listen,
And so we passed on like mist and vapour
Pressing back into the multicoloured foliage of life
Until they grow enough to understand.
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There's A Mist In The Garden Today
A sweet haven of contentment
Settles round the branches of trembling innocence
Found in trees long since discarded by their owner.
Recollections of sylphs and invisible winged creatures
Fringe the air with an atmosphere of unearthly beauty
In which a myriad clustering forms and shadows
Twilight the sultry colours that twist and writhe
In unending dances, exquisite in their natural beauty.
No-one, save me, can hear the pulsing beat of its earthy heart next to
mine
Tranquillity is only there for those who search
And no woman's beauty can match the slender threads
Of gay quicksilver moods that change the garden's dress each day
From mood to mood, in burning heat and passion,
When summer makes it ashen
Spring flowers leave the earth
And winter chases softly in to freeze the soul
Plucking the very heart out
Then, trembling and light-hearted, changes into another gown;
What's that, I say again faintly, as though awakening
From deep slumbered sleep
There's a mist in the garden today.
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