Tzadi

Odie O'Dool hath been a fool, soaked in drool he dreamt of jewels

But words had taught and breath had shown — that truth must bear a weight unknown

He stood and felt the floor beneath — adjust its slant with softened teeth

The shack now leaned a little right — the light came in at angled light

The O was resting, not in spin — but like a stone that breathes within

Ohm returned with staff in tow — a shape that bent like falling snow

"This isn't strength," he said, "but guide — it straightens you from deep inside"

Odie took the crooked cane — and felt it settle through his frame

He stepped, and nearly tripped at first — for righteousness is not rehearsed

He learned to walk with heart in check — to balance fire and give and neck

Each time he tried to force the rod — it slipped away like wary god

But when he bent to match its bend — the road ahead would just extend

He passed the peg still in the sod — and bowed as if to thank that rod

Not as a foe, or cursed chain — but part of why he now could reign

The staff hummed low with every step — and taught him where the path had slept

He saw the world not black or white — but curved and true in softened light

His shadow walked a humble arc — but cast no doubt and left no mark

The birds above, the wind, the dust — all nodded slow with simple trust

He wasn't loud, he wasn't king — but all he touched began to sing

And O, now resting by the gate — spun once, then smiled to watch him wait

For truth is not a throne or crown — but knowing when to kneel or bow

And Odie walked, both firm and free, a righteous curve in crooked tree