The Battles That Ever We Fought

Been thought of as kind, been thought of as cruel,
been thought of as cowards and been thought the fool,
tangled up in the things we’ve been thought.
We’ve known all too well we’ve been all of these things
as we’ve wandered the earth in search of some jewel,
seldom finding the thing being sought.

One day we awoke, but finding no rest,
we found we’d been cursed despite being blessed;
we have run but we’ve always been caught.
We drink from the wellspring: it soothes as it sings
of the faith we have lost, of the truths we have guessed,
what we’ve learned being mostly self-taught.

The earth will not miss us, we’ll not miss the earth,
unsure of our place from the moment of birth;
we have sold out to all that we’ve bought.
We’re told we’re the ones for whom the bell rings
as we’re longing to know what all it’s been worth,
and we’ve feared it might all be for naught.

We have done our best, sometimes that’s been sad,
we have done our worst, been thought of as mad,
and so often not done as we ought.
Though sometimes we think of ourselves having wings,
far too little we see we’ve become ironclad
and held captive by what we have wrought from the dust
of the dreams that we’d brought to the battles
that ever we fought.