Because I need glasses, because the c was smudged a bit and looked to be an r, I read it as rarefully and rather like it. No one is reading my poem about lying (on FB. I appreciate the response here). We don’t like to think about truth gone blurry. One who rarefully calls out lies loses popularity. No matter. People are like chemicals. We cause reactions, in certain combinations, and learn mastery over time but a good scientist never apologizes for the truth. Whether you like it, agree with it, understand it or refuse/refute it, the truth stands. It doesn’t need your approval or permission.
When you believe your own lies, when you’ve invested them with authority, the truth becomes an enemy, which seems as ludicrous as a lamb attacking a coyote, but only the rareful ones will see it.