He walked like everyone did and spoke like most should.
He smiled quite honestly and sang without any falsehood.
He rose to leave and enter the world with all its display.
He calmly clambered on, rebuked for his nude entree.
Why are you kind? Why are you just? Why are you so singular?
He heard and wondered with them, for he knew not the answer.
He asked that one and then another to help him live a life.
Where people wondered less and teased him not in his strife.
He doned the mantle of a sage and kept his eyes half shut,
And half the world he saw thus, to the other he was a bigot.
He draped himself in an artist’s dream and beauty he beheld in all,
Painted he, and sang he, and laugh did they in his ‘poverished fall.
So a merchant he became and ride did he, the many tumultuous seas,
A jade out here, a diamond there, myriad gold shackles for his knees.
A scholar shall you be, for respected they are who knows the worth-
Of written words with little truth or relevance to men on this earth.
And thus lived Arthuran, who wore their garbs, many hued,
At dusk he walked back home, more enlightened and nude.