Saturday, August 11, 2012

Measured by Measure

The measure is broken;
It cannot now speak.
And by this same token,
We've lost what we seek.

I've lived a life of sorrow,
Of pain and self deceit,
I've always wanted tomorrow
To give me finest wheat...

But the trials and tribulations,
That came in with the tide,
All these simple aggravations,
I can't surrender pride!

And what is the measure now?
I can't see my own way.
Where do I go and how?
And why can't I stay?

There's nowhere to go, nowhere to run,
I think I'm broken down.
By my own self I am undone!
Left alone inside this town.

Why can't like be a measuring glass?
Clear, simple, and sweet!
Yet life is like a mountain pass,
Wherein the rocks do meet.
You turn around, go upside down,
And falter on the path.
Your smile turns into a frown,
And you cannot add the math.

Complication comes again,
And ruins your pretty day.
Clouds do form and blot the sun,
In pretty sunlit May.
My easy way, my clear cut path,
Amid the torrents of the stream,
Have become for me a broken raft,
And does only I demean.
Yet had I seen the narrow straight,
The one that twists and turns,
And not contemplated my hate,
Given in to what man yearns,
I'd never have been measured by
The measurements I did so try,
Now judged by my own measurement,
I've found myself trapped in this tent,
And now the cloud comes thundering,
To take me away, a bolt of lightening.

Why could my measurement not work?
Was it due to some preexisting being?
My life did many people Irk,
And of me they now sing--
O sing the tune of he who lies
Within the grave of mud therein.
In measurement he now replies,
That he did turn measure to sin.

                             Measured by Measure, (c) Luke Bennette, August 2012

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