Watch Your Tongue / A Journal of Sorts / 3.11.15

Oh, what little good has come from many words.

My tongue sits restlessly in my mouth,

with all the burden of the highest mountain

or a volcano on the verge of eruption.

A word for the wise;

the wise reserve words.

Fools twist words without intention.

And understanding is lost in the speech of the dumb.

May I be wise with help of a tamed tongue

or with careful language and much reserve.

May grace be given upon my heart,

I do not mean to be so brash.

Let not my heart be burned by this foul beast

but let it burn with such zeal on your accord.

Please bring a fire to my heart that may never cool

A warmth to remain long after I am reduced to ashes.

Grant me your patience and grace,

your kind and understanding ways.

Let not me be destroyed by a loose piece of flesh.

May I not perish on the account of foolishness.

I will bring my heart before you and you will do as you will.

Help me trust in your tenderness,

lead me to know your marvelous ways.

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