Inspired by a painting by Stanczyk.
Silk and brocade wrap a bursting heart
The language of truth both a weapon
And a curse. The one soul at court
Allowed to speak his mind
He lives on the knife edge of
Regard and the head-man’s axe.
Immune to courtly games or manner
His voice cut through threads of feint
A plunging eagle through cobwebs
Yet malice shines in every eye
An honeyed poison is on every tongue.
Each step more treacherous than the last.
Wisdom and folly walk hand in hand
Through the gardens of policy.
More genius is to be found
In a cracked vessel, rather than whole
So capering and glib façade
Are the masks of foresight and honesty.
I like this one. It fits my tone today. 
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