Ethic

The quiet pulse of conscience beats,
A steady drum beneath the streets,
Where right and wrong in shadows play,
And choices whisper night and day.

In boardrooms, labs, and village halls,
Ethic calls, soft yet insistent,
It asks us not just what we can,
But who we choose to be, to stand.

It is the hand that steadies trust,
The voice that curbs unjust,
A compass forged from shared regard,
Guiding deeds both small and hard.

So let us tend this inner flame,
Not for acclaim or fleeting fame,
But for the world we leave behind—
A legacy of honest mind.