Honesty's the rarest rebel root
A precious pearl in dark long harboring
Whose maker groans and lifts to bring to fruit
From murky waters cull hours laboring.
The truth of my content has paid the price
In false of good, where I've my cross to bear,
For noise of warm democracy turned ice
And silence takes its place as royal heir.
For to yourself stay true 'tis difficult
When one knows not the self to wear
Like mask and theater garment's seeming fault
As you yourself to your true self forbear.
Thus blurs and vagues the ancient, sooted eye
Of honesty's most seeply inward lie.
Guide that inspired this poem: