For the aching hearts left wordless with no voice,
For the early morning hours, dark, promising to break,
For the flowers left unwatered, but not faded all the way,
For the young and hopeful, for those innocent in faith,
For the ageless, be they pages, names or graves,
For the smell of wet earth on any undiscovered shore,
For the babes born today and their grandchildren tomorrow,
For those capable of leading and those content to follow,
For the memories of the faces and the footsteps and the battles and the joy.