The road gets dark and the day gets long,
My voice is hoarse from my wandering song,
The tune I’ve been singing since the dawn,
When I awoke in the forest to journey on.
I look around this odd, wooded land,
And my heart senses something I don’t understand,
There’s a voice singing in the trees,
There’s someone dancing on the breeze,
An elven eye is watching me,
I see it peering through the leaves.
It’s a shade I’m sure I’ve never seen,
Sometimes grey, sometimes green,
Or perhaps somewhere in-between?
It matters not; its gaze is keen.
It tells of stories I can’t recall,
Of days gone by, when the trees were tall,
And the troubles of the world were small,
Back in the days before the fall.
His eyes tell the story that he won’t say,
Of a greener land that’s far away,
Of a people there, that couldn’t stay,
And a journey that took him to this day,
He’s brave in a way I could never be,
He had the courage to cross the sea,
To follow a hope to the end, blindly,
To have known and loved what can no longer be,
A long, hard road walked by weary feet,
A twisted path with little peace,
Where the stories of other wanderers meet,
None the wiser as to where it leads.
That road made him bitter and it made him hard,
It gave him sorrow and it gave him scars,
It made him mindful and it made him smart,
It took him to Mordor, where the shadows are,
I can see an innocence that Sauron stole,
I see in him a heart that will never be whole,
I see in him a mind that is slowly growing old,
I see a battered body, and I sense a broken soul.
But here’s the funny thing about my chance-made friend,
This ancient that I see before me at his journey’s end,
His eyes are sad, but the light is still in them,
And through the trees he’s giving me a small, mischievous grin.