The Judge and the Yardstick
Conjure on, you grand magician
Conjure up you grand magician,
some form of an ideal!
Wrap around that mystic cloak,
of now, look out — beyond the real.
Ideal of what? Decisions your own,
yourself, profession, a family?
Or that tavern in,
your old home town
— of anything, really.
Else how would you, then take a step,
towards any particular direction?
And if you don’t, you won’t get so far!
But perhaps that’s not — your intention?
But surely now, good sir, madam,
you can think of something — better?
A dirty rug, a lonely kid,
reform beyond current…perception?
If as you were, you’d do before,
should come again, and again once more,
your own yardstick left — in a block of wood!
A judge never takes the bench she should!
Left fiery fervour never ignited before,
a forgotten novel in an old bookstore…
Rather take a plunge, into our heads,
carve up our blocks — what else instead?
Then act, and now! Attention deploy…
Yardstick judges, in need of our employ!
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