Oftener ‘n not we hear of the strange fable
That human life’s worth is countable
Beyond numbers, naught is calculable
Without figures, nothing’s comprehensible
Churn out the stats and happiness is palpable
You’re worth no more than trinkets accumulable
Numbers tell of wealth, that machines can count
Defining our essence and riches that we mount
So all can be matched with others like ourselves
To give us pride in things all by themselves
The pity of junk defining creators
Reversing logic as things control owners
Creditors will insist as lenders want to quote
Ask for scores, for alone they speak of worth
Yet high scores galore for robbers and warlords
But where is my score for the humanity I bear?
On what gauge is my esteem
And my humanity to redeem?
If all were true, how to measure affection?
What scales shall weigh our reflections?
How can happiness meet such criterion?
When all is unseen, untouched but simply felt
Deep in our souls all numbers shall melt
Leaving just quality, that no whip can welt
If all made sense, what of friendships
Richness, growth, or priceless courtship
Companions and mates relieving hardship
Solitude and grief calmed by fellowship
With what gages to place such realities
To solidify kinship with moral chemistries?
Life’s just too precious for her to quantitate
A quality life’s never short, quantities will only vitiate
Neither is it long, whose measure is plain wrong
An insult to it’s worth, unique and always strong
Let numbers define us at our peril
For souls will vanish leaving us cripples
Give me a silky touch of quality
Keep your infinite measures of misery
My heart shall judge the outcome
As shall the spirit rejoice the wholesome
My smiles shamelessly tell the tale
As quality hugs me, gulping me wholesale
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