behind a banner 

woven with us

a strength greater than us each 

now living in us all. 

 

our bodies may go ashen

'neath the rigors of our peril

but the masts of what we stood for

shall sail our souls far beyond 

where we fell. 

 

and lo

tho widows wept 

we are the history of runes 

tracked nameless in the mud 

burned true in a crucible

carried on with a name in common 

by which we are called and will never shed 

built up into a fevered glory 

which may never die, nor spare 

as we have woven 

we are woven 

together, hoisted high. 

 

together, told in tales

forever.

 

from shield singers

to earthen wringers 

pulling fate and fable 

as good as good ought 

hammered and peened 

and tempered, stern

into the best of us that hist'ry wrought. 

 

Feel us,

when you set your glasses down 

and spare us a tithe 

of time spent in silence 

betwixt the uproarious glories 

of life and living : 

 

these breaths do us great honor 

both in

and finally

out again.