Tempered
I walked through the fire shouting,
and the world shook—but did not change.
Only when I sat beside the hot coals
and laid down my sword,
when I fed the fire with love—did the molten heart yield.
It was not until I knelt in silence and observation
that the edge of my blade began to cool.
Merciful waters rose from the Earth, flowing with life.
Spring growth emerged out of deep hidden roots.
And the blade did not scream—it sang.
Nice!
Well done, Susan!