Text to Speech (TTS) #5288
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Poem #5285
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Prompt: Not the dust upon the sandal, Nor the stain upon the hand, But the bitter, searing scandal Spoken 'cross a whispered land. For the tongue, a serpent's hiss, Poisoning the air it breathes, Leaves a mark no holy kiss Nor ritual water frees. The heart's dark well, a murky flow, Where resentment's waters rise, Unclean currents start to show In the malice of the eyes. What defiles is not external guise, But the venom that within us lies.
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