" 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.
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.
