A cruel hill

We measure walls and windows and the rain
But not the patterns painted on  the  pane
We measure flour and butter and  the tin
But not the love with which we mix them in

There is  no  linear scale in human  minds
Where you are up above and I’m behind
Complexity and wisdom  intertwine
No measure seems quite apt  for those who’re blind

There’s something  Nazi in  the way we rank
The industry of measurement now stinks
Every human  is a  unique  world
Yet into the abyss , they might hurled

We do  not   get perfection as we kill
The Christs who stumble up   their cruel hill

I welcome comments and criticism

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