诗歌 #5287
Spirit's Bitter Yield
No outward speck, no earthly grime,
Can soil the spirit, pure and bright,
But words unleashed, defying time,
Can plunge the heart in endless night.
The cruel intent, the jealous gaze,
The avarice that grasps and holds,
These are the soul's bewildering maze,
The story that its sorrow unfolds.
For from the core, the inner sanctum,
Emanate the deeds we cast,
And what emerges, like a phantom,
Is the shadow that forever lasts.
It is the spirit's bitter yield,
That stains the man upon life's field.
Can soil the spirit, pure and bright,
But words unleashed, defying time,
Can plunge the heart in endless night.
The cruel intent, the jealous gaze,
The avarice that grasps and holds,
These are the soul's bewildering maze,
The story that its sorrow unfolds.
For from the core, the inner sanctum,
Emanate the deeds we cast,
And what emerges, like a phantom,
Is the shadow that forever lasts.
It is the spirit's bitter yield,
That stains the man upon life's field.
图像
提示词： What make a man unclean is what comes out from him
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