As a metaphor reflects through prismed minds
So often are the rays of truth displayed;

Each soul beholds the colors hope may find—

A rainbow of life’s verities arrayed.

This shifting spectrum of veracity

Is well dependent on which eyes there view,

Oft bolstered more by voiced tenacity

Of tenets held—that they by choice be true.

For what of hope when one sees black, one white;

All truth in hues—yet none there judged the same?

Confounding more, the frail, so human blight—

Truthfulness perceived, but yet disclaimed.

There facts are but a chosen tincture shown,

And, as opinion—each shall clutch his own.