Please Read:
The Truth

Shall I choose what I love or what is true?
How can a man the former hope to take
when what he’s always longed for is in view?
Yea, Atlas bore the sky, yet to forsake
himself, forsake his love—how can man lift
this load? To have that evanescent prize—
O dreadful cost to hold this precious gift,
be henceforth marred, a life of only lies.
May I choose what I love? I fear I can’t.
Not fit to hold the sky I’ll sink below
and make my bed in Tartarus to chant
eternally dirges and sing my woe.
Shall I choose what I love, I’ll choose the truth,
be it beloved by all or deemed uncouth.