Anonymous
7/2/2025, 12:10:49 PM No.212261062
Sing, O Muse, of Bernthal the grim, the knuckle-born hero,
Breaker of silence, whose hands remember the war cries.
Storm-hearted speaker, he walks where mercy has perished,
Guardian lone of the real, the last of the stand-fast.
Tell how he spoke in the dust, where the false men had gathered,
Voice like thunder at dusk, like hounds in the distance
Then he rubbed his head, that brow carved deep by the burden,
Not from pain, but from years where the peace never settled.
And he spoke like a wall giving way to the ocean:
.
>"Let me ask you something — not for talk, but for judgment.
>Where were your hands when the real ones bled on the pavement?
>I have no use for the soft or the loud without action.
>Burn local — not for the show, but because it’s our fire.
>We are the watchers in dark when the law’s just a whisper.
>We are the weight that remains when the cowards have scattered.
>So hold fast, or hold nothing. There’s no in-between here."
So he spoke, and the silence was full of remembering.
Men stood still in the dust, as if gods had moved through them.
And where he walked, the fire held fast in the gutter.
Breaker of silence, whose hands remember the war cries.
Storm-hearted speaker, he walks where mercy has perished,
Guardian lone of the real, the last of the stand-fast.
Tell how he spoke in the dust, where the false men had gathered,
Voice like thunder at dusk, like hounds in the distance
Then he rubbed his head, that brow carved deep by the burden,
Not from pain, but from years where the peace never settled.
And he spoke like a wall giving way to the ocean:
.
>"Let me ask you something — not for talk, but for judgment.
>Where were your hands when the real ones bled on the pavement?
>I have no use for the soft or the loud without action.
>Burn local — not for the show, but because it’s our fire.
>We are the watchers in dark when the law’s just a whisper.
>We are the weight that remains when the cowards have scattered.
>So hold fast, or hold nothing. There’s no in-between here."
So he spoke, and the silence was full of remembering.
Men stood still in the dust, as if gods had moved through them.
And where he walked, the fire held fast in the gutter.
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