An arm’s length of yardsticks to measure

Imagine his surprise…
he still sees out of his one good eye,
and prays for us,
dangerous.

On his water head, in his water bed,
he lets it rest,
or does his best.

Fill a book with the things that you don’t know,
one less fugitive left that you’re harboring.
An arm’s length of yardsticks to measure,
just a few inches short of your longest reach.

Trapped in your skin and your face,
inside your personal space,
such hideous loss of your grace,
just styrofoam truth in its place,
in its place.

In his joyless soul, he mingles
with his blissful bouts
of ignorance,
just by chance.

In his tattered clothes,
shivering naked in the cold,
of nakedness,
just like the rest.

Fill a book with the things that you do know,
one more fugitive left that you’re harboring.
Infinity spans beyond measure,
just a few miles long of your shortest reach.

Trapped in your skin and your face,
inside your personal space,
such hideous loss of your grace,
just styrofoam truth in its place…
in its place.

If you’re involved in a lynch pin,
and you don’t know
peace in every crowd,
truth is always grown, grown, grown.

Written by Steven W. Rouach

Is a carbon based life form from Earth. Anyone who tells you he's not is absolutely lying. He's known for being dashing, heroic & humanity's last, best, hope.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store