Walk the paths well trodden by the brave,

Live boldly my son, embrace your fears and let them drive you on,

Be master of your hurts not slave,

Value the story in your scars, pity those that have none.

 

Treasure every tear that rolls on your cheek,

Let them fall on barren ground knowing their waters bring life,

Their salt does not cleanse the lips of the meek,

In the same way as those that shoulder their strife.

 

Let your heart be broken a dozen times,

Rather than close it in fear of all that would break it,

In love be fierce but never blind,

Love true and honest so that none can mistake it.

 

Face your end with a defiant smile,

Recount all the steps that have led you hence,

Insist that the reaper tarry a while,

Enjoy a few moments at his expense.

 

And in that final time, when he asks,

Fix him with a gaze both firm and steady,

Acknowledge that he has, "Other tasks,"

And calmly say, "I'm ready."