The Fire That Shaped Me

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.