The Whispered Word

It begins as a spark, a soft, harmless breath, A sentence that dances between life and death. 'Did you hear? ' or 'They say, ' in a casual tone, A seed in the dirt, carelessly thrown. It travels on wind, it glides through the air, It dines at the table, it sits on the chair. It changes its shape with each person it meets, Growing much louder as it walks down the streets. A fraction of truth, a mountain of lies, It wears a thin mask, a clever disguise. It steals away trust, it breaks down the walls, And smiles in the shadows whenever someone falls. For words are like feathers released in a storm, Once they have flown, they lose their initial form. You can never collect them or bring them back home, They leave a path broken wherever they roam. So guard every whisper and watch what you feed, For a tongue can plant flowers, or sow a wild weed.