GRIT

The wind screams promises of defeat, Where broken stones and frozen memories meet. No strength is left to stand and fight, Just embers in the endless night. A hollowed-out, unyielding core. It is not strength, it¬ a wall, It is the silence after all. The choice to take another breath, While walking step by step to death. The jokes are cracked on sacred ground, Where other faces form a frown. A leg is wrapped, the march goes on, Until the final light is gone. No hero&praise, just silent pride. It is not strength, it¬ a shield, It is the harvest of the field. Where pain was sown and left to grow, A cold and steady, hardened glow. Beware the calm, the quiet gaze, That sees the end of all our days. A simple phrase, "We&make it right," That feeds the cold, internal light. And leaves no room for doubt or fear. It is not strength, it is the void, Where hope and terror are destroyed. A hollow where the soul&been freed, To meet the overwhelming need. So let the world in chaos spin, This is the code that lies within. Not better, kinder, or more wise, Just something fire cannot cauterize. You break the man, you break the bone, But this remains, and this alone. The final, unforgiving, grit.