In Gratitude…

They called me a "wordsmith”...

The word "smith" brought forth an image of a smithy:
Hammers and anvil, a hot fire and the sound of a fierce bellows.

That much I know:
my thoughts, my words, are forged
in the chalice of compassion,
in the vessel's molten gold of Love,
in a timeless embrace.

Then, and only then,
are they sent out into the world,
on the wings of love and empathy
to land wherever Hearts are broken
open,
open to receive
open to be uplifted.

That is my humble prayer.