These things are true, told beautifully
They sometimes teach us to sleep, to learn there
That truth is beautiful while we are sleeping.
We are entertained by turns of logic
Flickering upon us with a grain of sense
Strained carefully from daylight, like a dream.
But rudely told, the truth just spreads.
Discretion lost, it multiplies its faces
Like a voice understood pealing outward
Ringing and extending its reach
Preening its facets to make echoes jealous