Ardent

[rosiphelee]

How ardent we were, and young
Fast friends in the turn of an hour

How weary we are, and still
Our youth is cupped in our hands.

And all that we boasted we knew
Is shadows and dust on our brow
For now, unknowing, we know
The limits of what we can be.

The swords will not stay in our hands
Nor the starlight shine in our eyes.
The words will not sing in our blood
Nor glory emblazon our names.

Yet, broken, we stand in the throng
For those who still smile and sing.
And, tarnished, we ride further on
For Darkness must yet be undone.

How weary we are, and young,
Fast friends in the temper of war.

How ardent we were, and still
The blood flows over our hands.