Once upon a time, inside the human body, all the organs lived in harmony. The heart beat with purpose, the lungs breathed with rhythm, and the liver worked quietly, filtering life’s excesses. They aged gracefully, accepting wrinkles and wear as part of their journey.
But one organ refused to grow wise—the tongue.
It never aged. It never tired. It danced with flavor, chased indulgence, and spoke without restraint. While the joints creaked and the eyes dimmed, the tongue remained youthful—and reckless.
One day, the pancreas called a meeting. “We’re under attack,” it said. “The sugar levels are rising. We’re struggling.”
The liver added, “Too much oil, too much spice. I’m exhausted.”
Even the heart sighed, “I can’t pump peace when the plate is full of chaos.”
All eyes turned to the tongue.
“I only do what I love,” it said smugly. “Sweet, salty, spicy—why should I care about your complaints?”
The body fell silent. Illness crept in. Diabetes, cholesterol, acidity—each a guest invited by the tongue’s greed.
It wasn’t until the body collapsed that the tongue realized:
Pleasure without wisdom is poison.
From that day on, the tongue learned restraint. It still spoke, still tasted—but now with awareness. It became a guardian, not a glutton.
πΏ Moral:
The tongue may never age, but it must learn to respect the body’s limits.
Health begins not in silence, but in mindful speech and mindful eating.
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