The thunderous hooves
Echoing on barren soil,
As elven troops charge the enemy.
Mortals bellowing chants of war,
Dwarven axes grinding stone.
Goblin flesh and orc’s blood
Littering the field of corpses.
Battle cries and songs of victory
For Middle-earth’s truest heroes.
Hobbits and trees of the wise,
Wizards and warriors that fight side by side,
And the bearer of rings
Who take on journeys unexpectedly.
The tales so familiar, from pages
Whispering about young heroines,
In red velvet vests,
Persevering against all odds.
The languages rolling off the tongue
Of young Tolkein, with the eloquence of
A unique desire for fellowship,
The one from before the war.
A painful reminder of the past,
With vigor as his enemy,
Crafting a ring of power to show
That no war could be solved from such desires
The volumes of Tolkein carry his life,
The woes of war, burdens of loss,
The joys of camaraderie, the tenderness of love,
And the sense of confined inspirations.
Through each battle he faced,
With his fellow man, his loves,
His stories, and his kin,
An author of his talent
Will forever be remembered,
Will forever be praised,
As a composer for the world of literature
That we live through today