m...e...a...s...u...r...e...d

cordoned off the metric system

and asked the ruler to find a way

despite my inability to write within the rhythm

and outside of my own expectations

in this, hope sprung and flowed from a spring

both conventional and rigid, and I am awed...

a measuring device found its way despite the obstacles facing it

and I’ve found my SOURCE in twelve inches of pine

with a metal edge for which to make my own path STRAIGHT,

and measured not in centimeters, but in the

span of my ability and the length of my determination...

until, of course, I realized that my construct of a ruler was

an unworthy role model, a golden calf of small stature and little luster,

and that I can only throw down these tablets after

I climb that mountain and find the scribe.

I step aside, and let these things pass from me,

and continue in my pace unmeasured.

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