His insight was hidden
In his attitude to those around him
And in the way he formed his words
Two clear groups emerged
Some who could love him
And some who wanted him dead
Which is so ironic in light
Of his purpose carefully withheld
To take the world by storm
On the page his words seem stern
But I try to imagine them spoken
By a voice of reassuring calm
Not as you might talk to a child
To soothe his fears but straightforwardly
As you would speak with a close friend
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