THE BURDEN OF THE BRAVE

He walks through fire without a cry, A steady hand, a watching eye. He lifts the weak, he bears the load, He clears for others every road. He gives until there’s none to spare, He stays when none are left to care. He weeps in ways the world won’t see, And calls it strength—his silent plea. But tell me now, who holds him fast, When all his strength is gone at last? Who speaks when he has lost his voice, Who offers him a kinder choice? Who comforts him, the comfort-giver? Who calms the strong when he must shiver? Who dares to climb that unseen height, And bring him warmth, and give him light? For even giants feel the cold, Even heroes tire of being bold. The brave may stand, but not for long— Without a heart to keep them strong. So mourn the cost of being great, Of bearing love, of holding fate. The world may cheer, the world may sing— But never sees what silence brings.