When you stand before the fire
There shall be no more weeping.
The trees shall whisper and wind shall moan:
Your fate is in your hands.
What is the path of your choosing?
How shall you walk this road?
With spine that reaches, earth to sky
And feet that tread surely.
Drink now of the waters
That bring life to your soul.
There is nothing that will quench
Your thirst like this.
Set forth. Be well. Walk strong.
T. Thorn Coyle
(written for 5th annual Brigid in the Blogosphere)