The Measure
By any thing discernable to man
This metric indiscernible at best
Only noticed gathering as dust
Upon a shelf somewhere back in the stacks
So we invented something that could count
While we attended to more important things
Caught up in the distant space between
Knowing and not knowing the unseen
As if the only sense that can appear
Is the only one which matters in the end
It ends up as collection in the glass
And measures what is now, and what is past
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