The Republic (A Poem)

 I went down to the old Piraeus, met a band of four fine men.

The Fierce one spoke in just one tone, “My own life first, that is best when

The world’s unfair, all men self-serve, I cannot dream to do what’s right.”

Thrasymachus is too far gone, but Glaucon’s Eyes still shine Bright.

These men are not the men I thought, but worth the remainder of my day.

I tell them with a tinge of hope, “It seems that we will have to stay.”

I’ll build a city, then they’ll see, the way that human beings must be.

That justice, among the finest goods, exposed Courageous eyes might see.

It must be more than bronze façade, justice runs deep, not mankind’s measure:
It serves, protects, repairs and saves, and hush! It is not merely pleasure.

These men think reputations suffice, that the eyes of the unjust crowd are all.

I wonder if they’re too far gone; truth, post-blindness, is beyond recall.

His eyes light more, Apollo’s rays cast a line; perhaps his offspring can save him in time.

The good: the sun, its truth: the light, your soul: your senses, your eyes: the mind.

Just one eye left, its twin now gone; the sun cares not whose eyes can stand:

If man adjusts, with faith and trust, he’ll come to learn to lower his hand.

Have wisdom without sophistry, have justice without pride,

Opinion without knowledge, from these problems men will hide.

The soul is one, the city many, yet their structures are reflections

Cities are just by working well, men’s souls by way of recollection.

The tyrant reminds me of the Fierce, he works to only serve himself,

Yet still he’s not outside the cave, despite his power, place, and wealth.

Deceives himself by ignorance, the evil city is his soul.

He will not leave these shadowed gates, never again can he be whole.

We must go down, for one last time, and tell the sacred Myth of Er,

See our seaweed, shells, and stones, progress towards Plane and River.

“There are not many things more pleasant,” says Courage before he disappears.
To hear this story and forget it all, that we may not spend many years

In deep dark place, where justice burns, and our next life is set and paved.

We’ll do well and be happy, Glaucon, for only then would we be saved.

Read an annotated version