Measures

In life, it’s so easy to lose sight of what matters,

Objects, pleasure, jewels and treasure,

They are offered up on a silver platter,

Their accumulation, worth and weight,

These all become our measures.

Objects measure our strength,

Cast onto our shoulders as loads for a donkey,

Then pushed onwards but not upwards, and to what ends?

To gain more, but why? When it will only make us fall.

We hit the dirt and the silver is tarnished.

Pleasure measures our loyalty,

It calls out to us like a siren in a storm,

And from the dirt we respond as if it’s royalty,

Bowing to its captivating beauty, but never seeing its true form,

For pleasure, once sought, quickly becomes pain,

And we are only loyal while we have something to gain.

Jewels measure our beauty,

And in their rich colours and perfect lines,

We catch a glimpse of perfection,

And we feel it our duty to chase that beauty,

But when the colours fade and we bend, then break,

We are reduced to flesh, and once more abandoned to the earth.

But love measures our heart,

It sees its depths and reaches far beyond its dreams,

It chases the truth and is patient right from the start,

Love fills oceans, and flows through the streams,

Which wash the dirt from our clothes and unite us in peace,

With our Lord and maker, our God the creator.

Helen Rambaut

4.09.2012