In the hall of gentle care, where frailty wears its honest face, truth limps slowly with a cane — but lies, they dance with grace. Too many watch the brightest smile and think it wisdom’s crown; they never test the weight of words before they strike them down. The cunning learn the tender’s ear, they whisper soft appeal; while those who stand for weaker souls are branded what’s not real. Oh, heart that would be kind — learn first to be robust! Compassion without judgment’s spine collapses into dust. For mercy blind can wound the just, when vigilance grows weak; and justice sleeps in silken rooms where truth dares not to speak. So weigh each tale, weigh twice again, before decree is made; the cost of careless certainty is even trust’s decayed. Then let your mind, not beauty’s glass, be mirror to your heart; for wisdom grows where courage stands, and truth must have its part.
