The man proclaimed he was a genius:
they scoffed and asked for proof.
He looked them straight in both their eyes, said:
"Sirs, the first from you."
For he spoke in riddles, listen close;
the meaning's right within.
Cloaked only by your ignorance,
the truth with fog contend.
For what is meant is never said,
but hinted calm and cool.
It may be thin, or deeply dug,
a wise man or a fool.
It's best he hadn't made his claim
for they couldn't comprehend.
His language used, a different tongue
not known to many men.
So strange it seemed to passers by
when he rattled off, aloof,
such pure wisdoms, undisturbed:
reeking nastily of Truth.
One day at last they punished him
for all his brutal crimes,
for all his sick serenity
and all his loathsome rhymes.
He was sentenced to ten thousand years
of penance for mankind,
to play along with normal folks:
"You must only tell sweet lies!"