/Woche gratis sichernGedicht #5285
The Tongue's Venom
Not the dust upon the sandal,
Nor the stain upon the hand,
But the bitter, searing scandal
Spoken 'cross a whispered land.
For the tongue, a serpent's hiss,
Poisoning the air it breathes,
Leaves a mark no holy kiss
Nor ritual water frees.
The heart's dark well, a murky flow,
Where resentment's waters rise,
Unclean currents start to show
In the malice of the eyes.
What defiles is not external guise,
But the venom that within us lies.
Nor the stain upon the hand,
But the bitter, searing scandal
Spoken 'cross a whispered land.
For the tongue, a serpent's hiss,
Poisoning the air it breathes,
Leaves a mark no holy kiss
Nor ritual water frees.
The heart's dark well, a murky flow,
Where resentment's waters rise,
Unclean currents start to show
In the malice of the eyes.
What defiles is not external guise,
But the venom that within us lies.
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Prompt: What make a man unclean is what comes out from him
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