Faces run headlong into the wind,
Oblivious to its ferocity,
Sending sonic ripples shooting into the sky,
Proclaiming the innocence of Eden.

Swiftly they make their way to the gates,
Testing new virtue and gallantry,
Parrying and thrusting in the poetry of play,
Young warriors on school fields of Pelennor.

They gather their experiences,
(Spoils of war) and tuck them away,
Heedless of the unknowns,
Conscious of deep-beauty and grandeur.

Tears of loss, and cries of victory—
All the breathing tangibles of existence,
Are manifest here in this nondescript place,
Hidden by the wayside.