The March of Gondor

I guess we never really do get to go back... after tracking all these paths to the point where we stand, we slowly understand what passes behind is but a fleeting dream to the present...

As pain and despair engulfs the moments ahead, we shun our eyes from the pointy spears and arrows... feeling our body slowly turn, twitching and struggling, just to return to the point where we started... hoping to seek solace within the memories that still hold...

We plead and pray everyday at the darkest, loneliest hour... for a chance to break through all darkness and reemerge into light... We all pray... not just as a child, weak and naive but as a full grown man, lost and sad. To feel the tears of fear roll down our very cheeks even as we swear to wield our mightiest blade and bear our strongest shield, we suddenly understand the silent trembles that entwines the heart as the gales beat against our face...

Men are born afraid. In this world where courage is robbed by the icy winter winds, we all look upon the heavens... with all hope for the stars to light our journey across the endless dark. How long will we march? How long till we smile? When will the memories of the past materialize once more as our future? The silent remarks accompany our frightful march.

Steel boots clanking, dust upon dusty road, we remind ourselves once more of the duty we swore to oblige... and once more as well of the honor and glory we believed in, of the smiles we wish to protect. Even with these trembling hands we will still hold our sword... even within the darkest night we will still raise our shields. At this final hour of dire, may the waves of fate crash upon the backs of men, and may we brave it with the combined might of our fellowship.. forged long ago during better times, but reemerge to outlast every hour of darkness combined...

The dust continues to swirl, and thunder clouds color the path ahead with death and forlorn... but yet this is what our backs are for... this is what our strength exists to bear. Even in the continuing darkness the sun never ceases to cast thin rays of hope that slices through the forbidding clouds... even in the quietest night the insects continue to whisper the heralding of a new dawn... and even in the pain of defeat and loss, heaven never fails to answer our prayers by rewarding us with tomorrow to continue ahead...

As we continue to draw the next breathe of ice and dust, we taste our tears of past mingle with the sweats from the march. Suddenly it all seems clear that the direction ahead will not revive the path that has come to past, but rather carve an epic journey forged to outlast...

And so to arms my brothers! and let our thundering boots remind the world of our mighty march!
And as the horns of war echo the plains of death, let them come, let them try. For the glory of a hundred breathes, for the beauty of a single lifetime of man, we will live to see the rise of tomorrow's sun!

This is after all ... Our March!