Measure Of A Man

Take measure of a man, not on paper but in soul, 

the scars on the skin, the character as a whole! 

Was he born high, or does it matter not? 

Did he have it all? How was it got?

Was toil his tool and his spirit, his strength? 

By the sweat of his brow, is that how it went?

Or melancholy were the means, is that what it was?

Crushed dreams and deceit, was it treachery without pause?!

I ponder if he fought for those, who themselves could not? 

Did material tempt reign his heart, or were all for naught?

Let's ignore the high ceilings and the riches that he bore,

look at how he treats the less-fortunate at his door.

Surprise you, it might, my dear sir.

warrant your thoughts a vigil, your soul a little stir! 

For ego tricks us, into deeming someone the mere jester,

while he commands a mighty will, you could never muster!

Take measure of a man, not in paper but in the soul,

For it burns the brightest ever, no matter how black the coal!