The Wisdom of Wax

In the quiet corridors of the ear,  

a golden armor hums its purpose.  

Not dirt, nor shame, nor filth’s shadow.  

This is the body's gentle alchemy:  

a river trapping dust in its flow,  

repelling the drowning touch of water,  

folding itself into a hymn of protection.  

Here is a substance that holds secrets.  

Not sterile, but alive, resourceful,  

carrying the whispers of past defenses,  

an unheralded guard against fungal kingdoms.  

The jaw, with its ceaseless rhythm—  

chewing, speaking, mapping the world—  

guides each ancient wave to daylight.  

The ear, a house that cleans itself,  

unburdened by the impatience of hands.  

But the cotton swab’s intrusion disrupts,  

a plunger turning wisdom into silence.  

Let nature carry its quiet work,  

its golden threads spun with purpose.