The Fire That Shaped Me
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The wind came down from the old stone ridge. Calling my name through the furs
and the flame. I walked that road where the ash trees bridge. Barefoot,
heart full, never the same. There's a spark in the soil of the place
I'm from. Where the river bends low like it's whispering home. And the night
lit up when the drums were wrung. A fire in the fields where
the wild ones roam. It's kind of the stories told of the ones
who rose from the embers gold. Every heartbeat, every cry, was a promise
carried to the sky. This is the fire that shaped me.
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