Let Heaven Sit In Judgment

Let heaven judge, man I doubt can, Pretending egos oft go wrong, What’s justice if ruled by man’s pen? If truth should die ere rise again Who'd ever sing its righteous song? Let heaven judge, man I doubt can. A child's born, grows to be young man, Truth grows no girth, lives ever young, Girth of justice grows thanks to pen. And youth grows to be flightless then, Led by logic as goes along, Let heaven judge, man I doubt can. Wish, heart and head both judge as one, If not, together get the hung, Not pen, truth should be told by men. If seamless do days and nights run, Who knows how and when ends their song, And, should heaven judge best it can? It’s too precious— men judge or pen! ______________________________________________________ A child an instinctive natural judge never sits in judgment of right and wrong. So is an old man in his second childhood. But a youth tends to be rational being ruled by head rather than heart. Yet, who can say what's right and what's wrong; when a day begins, when ends; when precisely light takes over from darkness? Between white and black there lies grey, as does between right and wrong, between truth and falsehood, and so are all contrasting opposites in life. There is one infinite continuum; only peoples' perspectives differ. Who are we humans to sit in judgment? This Villanelle too is not sure. Maybe, justice is best done when we judge not! Villanelle | 06.03.2022 |