🔵 By Christopher Rowland. Photo by lauragrafie.
Weary beyond measure, I hang my head and sigh. Another day closer, the battle to remain upright, moving forward hope survives, glimmering like far away treasure. At each days close, I examine my measure. Integrity intact or did I lose some of my hard won treasure? Some days are a simple breeze, others are a fierce upwind struggle. Temptations assault my reason, I am a lonely prisoner, small hope of parole, still a soul in body, my freedom out of season. Yet that light of liberty, life and its days, alight the distant end of my road, so I will never surrender.
Never hope, nor upright integrity shall I forsake, though so prison weary. I awake to face a new day and embrace each integrity battle, as staunchly as I may. I am a prisoner who has found his measure. Weighed myself upon the scale of judgment, though only I may know myself, except for our Creator. I look down upon the scale of wrongs far below me, from my weary perch of rightness I have come to know myself. Integrity is my measure, on the scale of rightness, which is my treasure.