Yearning is a word I used not to know
At one time, living a life long ago,
When gambles were made and happiness lost
For dreams are made at terrible cost.

The folly that re-produces itself
Make judgement’s rock face gains a hard hewn wealth
And the errors made you eternally rue
When it’s easier to do than undo.

Those follies of a generation gone
May be described, they cannot be undone
And left with doubts and troubles all around
A way through these by logic might be found
Or magic, once believed, when as a child
You saw the whole world pure and undefiled.

Which, understanding how we can discern
That to unlearn is harder than to learn.
There is no more implacable a foe
Than one who argues for the status quo.

Incomplete equations, that’s what we are;
From evasions we need a guiding star
And, with the queue to get into Heaven
You can’t expect better odds than even.

Your chance would come and you would never know
To where it all would lead, yet still the emblems show
The echo of a long lost time
Where eerie repetitions only mime.

And when you hear those melancholy chimes don’t cry
Just grieve a little for the past good times
And then resolve to pass them on
To others who will grieve when you are gone.

July 1997