Stranger than fiction, the truthful voice appears,
To minds entangled in dishonest spheres.
For those who wander down a morally broken way,
View timely truth as a delayed, unwelcome ray.
Yet though the dark may cloud the passing day,
The light of truth will hold eternal sway.
Humanity is fickle, changing with the tide,
Where justice falters, and the flawed preside.
But truth shines bright within the seeker’s mind,
The sacred spark where knowledge is refined.
As Socrates proclaimed to all mankind:
From wisdom, virtue blooms; from ignorance, the blind.
The souls who view the truth as bitter spite,
Are heavy burdens blocking out the light.
Wrapped in their envy, malice, and deceit,
They fear the very honesty they meet.
Though human courts may wander and defile,
The hidden facts and cover them with guile,
True justice rests beneath a higher gaze,
Where God protects the righteous all their days.
What comes from God is pure, Comenius taught,
Till human hands corrupt the holy thought.
We call truth bitter for our comfort’s sake,
Blinding our eyes to choices that we make.
Yet Keats reminds us, shining from youth,
That beauty is truth, and eternal truth is beauty.
Though ethics call us to defend the right,
Too oft in fear, we hide it from the light—
But truth remains, a bright and guiding flame,
Unfazed by shadows, evermore the same.
