Greys, Part Iii

Greys, Part III Temerity, the crux of the Human Way - We dominate what we can, Deriding the rest - But the heart speaks in terms the tongue cannot frame, Suggesting the worst is a part of our best The ashen taste behind the use of our insignificant powers Tempers our pride in the midst of our triumphant hours. Beneath the greening of the summerwarmed Earth Corruption proceeds in its slow work Feeding the living on the fruits of its breakage Of the form and substance of the dead. The cold rain slanting down from the leaden clouds Softens and enlivens roots deep in the loam, The dessicated pulp of yesterday's life And many voices speak In the pattering tears from the sky: Many voices, not understood by the educated mind, Not grasped by refined understanding; Yet heard and interpreted in the dark chambers At the center of the soul, Where the meanings of things old as this world Quietly abide, Resting in the silent center - The fertile graveyard of our primal thoughts. The rain calls to us through its wall of grey Addressing our Pride Mixing truths forgotten with truths forgot The rain speaks, saying, among other things - What are the monuments of Men The works of their timid day? The mountains that this Earth brought forth In fevered fury, long ages ago Have long outlasted the whole of your race. These are Her monuments, and yet For all their strength and glory, I - The humble soft rain, I - Have washed away whole chains of them; For I persist, Returning and returning, Ages moments to me. We can watch our glories dissolve Stone upon stone, great edifices rise To crumble and fall again Forgotten and fractured, always being replaced By other stones upon stones Which will decay in their due turn. Impermanence is the standard Of human affairs The common complaint in which everyone shares Consider with me those things that do last, Thoughts and emotions which fade not with the past.