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The tongue of wisdom weaves a gentle thread,
A balm to soothe the wounds of weary hearts,
Its words, like rivers, flow where pain has bled,
And mend the soul with healing’s tender arts.
No reckless barbs escape its careful guard,
No venom drips from lips so finely tuned,
But peace unfolds, a gift not won by shard,
A melody of grace, softly crooned.
The foolish speak, and storms begin to rise,
Their syllables a blade to pierce the day,
Yet wisdom’s voice, with health in every guise,
Turns night to dawn, and drives the dark away.
So let the wise with measured speech abide,
For in their tongues, true healing does reside.

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