Honesty is a bottomless ocean,
Unbridled it will stir emotion;
An oft ignored but curious notion,
Strong enough to crush devotion,
Yet gentle enough to care.
Constantly sought, but rarely found,
When ignored, we’re run aground.
With the power to enlighten and confound,
And by which we all are bound,
Come joy or come despair.
It rides like a sentry through the night,
Arriving at dawn, causing fright.
For it is truly hard to be forthright,
About deeds we’ve done out of sight,
Notwithstanding, our whole souls we will soon bear.
When honesty comes a quietly calling,
From our perches we go falling,
Falling and flailing, not prevailing,
Our minds backpedaling and derailing,
A soul on Earth will be not spared.
For we are all unclean liars,
Wounded children, and wretched criers,
Who insist on playing with fires;
But merely build our funeral pyres,
Log by log, without a care.
But this fire does purify,
Our misdeeds does it decry,
Setting us free, free to fly,
And allows the humble to peacefully die,
Sitting upright in their chairs.
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(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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(1803 - 1882)