Pride is a formidable foe,
Insidious too.
At first it seems a source of strength,
To prove my worth
And superiority.
My tongue wags without ceasing,
Spewing forth half-baked truths
And half-baked lies.
My voice may soothe and comfort my ears
As I control the moment,
Yet, it can offend friend and foe alike.
Would it be that I were wise enough
To put the brakes on the one organ
That can exude love,
Or create enmity.
If I were slow to speak,
No regrets would escape my lips,
No umbrage would be taken from my spoken words.
That my ears would be quick to hear!
That my tongue would be slow to speak!
That my anger would be slow to erupt!
Perhaps, then, my soul would be at peace.
