AS one, we are an army.
We hear the call carried by the turbulent storm
and raise our hands in loyalty.
Standing shoulder-to-shoulder
against the rushing wind,
we move ever forward.

Our hands numb from the stabbing cold,
equally forced to bear the unbearable heat,
night and day,
through bitter fatigue.
We fight the pain without
as well as that within.

Solitude and sadness harken out to us;
Neglected children vying for our favor.
We are Men only,
of flesh and cold-forged steel,
unfit to banish remorseless emotion,
from hearts darkened by the day.

Struggling uphill in battle,
surging through the pain
we fight for those that cannot,
and for those that care not.
But mostly, we fight for those
we embrace and call brother.

Address us as soldier or friend,
greet us with suspicion and fear,
or revile us for our villainy,
but do not dismiss us.
For, we write the history of the ages
blotted in our own sanctified blood.

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