Hymn to Heroes

They march where silence weaves its solemn thread,

Where twilight lingers, heavy, cold, and deep.

Through fire and storm, where weaker souls have fled,

They carve their path—their promises to keep.

No laurel crowns their brow, no songs arise,

Yet in their step, the weary find their peace.

They bear the weight of night behind their eyes,

And in their hands, the tides of war release.

Not theirs the dream of golden, storied halls,

Nor fleeting glory, bright as morning’s hue.

They give, they go, when duty’s shadow calls—

Their deeds like whispered prayers, strong and true.

And though the world forgets the price they pay,

Their light endures beyond the break of day.