POETRY

Whatever The Measures

A poem

A metal ruler. Image credit: Author

We fleet through this world with our armies in tow,
Thinking we’ll get to the end and we’ll be in the know.

But nothing we do can beat out the truth,
That we’ll eek out our days leaving nothing but tooth.

We can seek out the ways of past raconteurs,
While our feet follow fast the soft scent of lures.

And we can look for the truth in past books and pages,
And argue for proofs of the last crooked sages.

We can build up a cast of impractical pleasures,
Or fight till our last for a few fleeting treasures.

But the true cost of meeting these timeful endeavours,
Is lives lost and lacking, whatever the measures.

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