There are secrets that protect, held in trust
and ones that destroy, like moth and rust.
They starve the other of love and light,
hoarded in envy, an unseen blight.
The hidden lamp can guide no-one,
the truth unshared enlightens none.
Unharvested fruit will rot and fall:
gifts ungiven are no gifts at all.
The miser’s heart’s an empty store;
the unselfish giver is given more.
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