In places where the desperate gather round,
where chaos breeds and certainty feels lost,
a strong voice emerges, assured and seductive.

The honeyed rhetoric flows straight from the hive,
each word a sweet balm for minds that ache to
know and seek solutions to messy tangled knots.

The hand extends, so gentle, so assured,
leading us past the twisted labyrinth of doubt,
and each strong word feels designed for the lost.

The voice that promised clarity and light
has woven webs of silk around our will,
and in our grateful, trusting bow we have
not noticed how we have learned to be still.

 

26/6/2025