The trickle from a hillside nook
Became a gentle, winding brook,
Tranquil with rural charm.
Upon this pleasant country scene
The flowing brook became a stream,
Harmless, controlled and calm.
The winding stream, so innocent,
Increased in hurrying intent
And as it scurried past,
More sparkling rivílets joined its force
United in a rushing course
To make one river vast.
The river rushed on recklessly
Until it poured into the sea
Encompassed by the tide,
And no-one then could trace the brook
That started in a hidden nook
Upon a far hillside.
The trickle of a rumoured word
So softly whispered, keenly heard,
Seemed harmless in intent.
But listeners, who felt inspired,
Considered that the word required
A slight embellishment.
The trickle soon became a brook,
New facts you couldnít overlook
Were added - for it seemed
Important to make all aware
Of truths to be revealed, laid bare:
The brook became a stream.
More coursing rivílets joined the flow
As those with a desire to know
Gave added drops of news.
The river vast could not be stemmed,
And some, now openly condemned,
Did reputation lose.
The gossip-course rushed recklessly
Until it poured into a sea
That restless churned and stirred;
A surging wild that caused distress,
Destruction, chaos, untold mess,
All from one trickling word.
How blest are those, the Saviour said
Who guard the words the speak Ė instead
Of stirring strife, bring peace.
Into a maelstrom of distress
Their gentle answers soothe and bless
With healing loveís increase.
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