Honey is sweet but sticky,
The bee stings, yet is surrounded by love.
A match is relatively light,
But the ruin is heavy, crushed by fire.

A word is only sound,
A little wave of air. No hands needed —
It will do so much.
It will lead to partings
Or speak so kindly
That it lifts the soul’s torment.
The throat only scrapes — from nothing
It will revive strength,
Comfort the sad,
Encourage the weak.

Sweet, sticky, stinging, healing,
Light and heavy always with you.
Paralyzing or mighty
It capitulates or calls to battle.