" Govern Your Tongue" - Bahamas AI Art
©A. Derek Catalano
Govern Your Tongue
The gate is small, the passage thin,
Where all our outward thoughts begin;
A muscle slight, of flesh and blood,
That holds the power of fire or flood.
Behold the tongue, a restless spark,
That lights a hearth or chars the dark,
A rudder on a mighty ship,
That steers the soul with every slip.
The word once loosed is like a bird,
That flies the moment it is heard;
You may repent and plead and pray,
And wash the bitter stains away,
But though the heart grants grace and peace,
The spoken word finds no release.
Like arrows sped from tightened bow,
You cannot stop where they may go.
The wound may heal, the scar remain,
A quiet echo of the pain;
For though forgiveness mends the soul,
And makes the broken spirit whole,
The memory of a piercing word
Is like a bell that’s once been heard—
The chime may fade into the air,
But knowledge of the sound is there.
Beware the lie, the venom’s sting,
The hollow songs that shadows sing;
To strike a name with libel’s hand,
Is building castles on the sand.
To steal a character, a face,
And drape it in a false disgrace,
Is theft of what a man holds dear—
A debt you cannot pay, I fear.
The truth is solid, firm, and bright,
A beacon in the deepest night;
But untruths told of world or man,
Are cracks within a master plan.
The rumors spread like creeping vine,
To choke the fruit and spoil the wine;
So guard the facts with jealous care,
Lest falsehoods fill the common air.
Let no obscenity defile,
The beauty of a human smile;
Why dress the mind in rags of gray,
When golden words are yours to say?
The coarse, the crude, the harsh, the mean,
Are mirrors where the soul is seen;
But elegance in every breath,
Can conquer bitterness and death.
The insults hurled in heat of rage,
Are ink-blots on a pristine page;
Though anger feels a righteous flame,
It often leaves a trail of shame.
Instead, let cordial winds arise,
To clear the clouds from weary eyes;
Let polished speech and manners grand,
Become the custom of the land.
Be respectful, be polite,
A gentle lamp within the night;
For every soul you meet today,
Is fighting battles on their way.
The civil tone, the quiet grace,
Can transform any time or space;
A bridge of silver, built with care,
Is better than a wall of snare.
So govern well this tiny part,
The faithful servant of the heart;
Reflect before the lips divide,
On what is dwelling deep inside.
For life and death are in its sway,
In every word you choose to say;
Guard the gate and hold the key,
To set the spirit's kindness free.
Where all our outward thoughts begin;
A muscle slight, of flesh and blood,
That holds the power of fire or flood.
Behold the tongue, a restless spark,
That lights a hearth or chars the dark,
A rudder on a mighty ship,
That steers the soul with every slip.
The word once loosed is like a bird,
That flies the moment it is heard;
You may repent and plead and pray,
And wash the bitter stains away,
But though the heart grants grace and peace,
The spoken word finds no release.
Like arrows sped from tightened bow,
You cannot stop where they may go.
The wound may heal, the scar remain,
A quiet echo of the pain;
For though forgiveness mends the soul,
And makes the broken spirit whole,
The memory of a piercing word
Is like a bell that’s once been heard—
The chime may fade into the air,
But knowledge of the sound is there.
Beware the lie, the venom’s sting,
The hollow songs that shadows sing;
To strike a name with libel’s hand,
Is building castles on the sand.
To steal a character, a face,
And drape it in a false disgrace,
Is theft of what a man holds dear—
A debt you cannot pay, I fear.
The truth is solid, firm, and bright,
A beacon in the deepest night;
But untruths told of world or man,
Are cracks within a master plan.
The rumors spread like creeping vine,
To choke the fruit and spoil the wine;
So guard the facts with jealous care,
Lest falsehoods fill the common air.
Let no obscenity defile,
The beauty of a human smile;
Why dress the mind in rags of gray,
When golden words are yours to say?
The coarse, the crude, the harsh, the mean,
Are mirrors where the soul is seen;
But elegance in every breath,
Can conquer bitterness and death.
The insults hurled in heat of rage,
Are ink-blots on a pristine page;
Though anger feels a righteous flame,
It often leaves a trail of shame.
Instead, let cordial winds arise,
To clear the clouds from weary eyes;
Let polished speech and manners grand,
Become the custom of the land.
Be respectful, be polite,
A gentle lamp within the night;
For every soul you meet today,
Is fighting battles on their way.
The civil tone, the quiet grace,
Can transform any time or space;
A bridge of silver, built with care,
Is better than a wall of snare.
So govern well this tiny part,
The faithful servant of the heart;
Reflect before the lips divide,
On what is dwelling deep inside.
For life and death are in its sway,
In every word you choose to say;
Guard the gate and hold the key,
To set the spirit's kindness free.
©A. Derek Catalano/Gemini
