For you, the avid searcher of what is lawful, the voyager of parchment and speech, the lover of justice itself. Find life in the words of a bard who sees what justice is.
On the summit of conscience and value,
sits a balance of scales perfectly perched,
held firm between the strength and sinew,
of fingers unwavering, beyond skies or earth.
Beyond the howling winds of anxiety,
immovable under the tremors of pressure,
devoid of the abusive slings of charity,
the equity of all, is it's greatest measure.
This mount is displayed for all to cherish,
a symbol manifesting equal judgement,
yet this does not mean it's opponents diminish,
for its very existence invites wars and torrent,
arms of all ferocity are raised in its presence,
a rallying call made as their excuse,
to taint and demolish its meaning and essence,
to witness the scales tipped to their favor and use.
This call appeals to all who have sought,
satisfaction, safety, be it named undeserved.
They climb upon its steepness uncaught,
aim all their machination, weapons, they'd reserved,
to pry the fingers set by the eternal,
destroy the balance and twist their fate,
create a world where oppression is normal,
blindness to fault and shortcoming of any rate.
But, sitting vigilant, on steps cold as ice,
are the stoic defenders, focused on the summit,
they hear the march, and weapons rise,
a call of terror echoing louder each moment.
They ready themselves, for they remember,
the oath they'd taken, their convictions made,
the battle begins, spreading blood and embers,
each side slowly dipping themselves in graves.
The morality of the mountaintop,
has become as red as bloodied snow,
perversions on the balance, have stopped,
but the price of such is never low,
life and labor, fought in constant moments,
rights and judgement, anchored to decision,
two sides, locked in eternal torment,
to sentence, safety or perdition.
But, though the conflict has been in cycle,
the monument has always stood,
the scales still in balance, for this is final,
firmly, strongly, held in all that is good.
For it speaks nothing but what is true,
be it a call for judgement, or saving grace,
this symbol, this justice, it stands through,
for it embodies a hope, of balance, of faith.
YOU ARE READING
For You
PoetryFor you, my words they are to keep, For you, my dreams to fill your sleep, For you, my life in your hands, For you, my love I still stand. (Cover is self made)
