Fortress of Defiance
by Dawg
Hope is shattered, scattered in the rubble’s grime,
a skeleton of dreams abandoned to the storm–
yet from these remains, piece by piece, in time,
a fortress rises–ragged, resolute, and warm.
Each stone, a memory of pain endured,
each crack, a chronicle of what did not break,
the mortar, made of battles long secured,
the arch, a record of paths none else could take.
Through broken gates and battered walls,
a sovereign domain is wrested from despair,
where once the demons danced in shadowed halls,
now banners of defiance ripple in the air.
Every bruise and scar, a signature of might,
each toppled tower, rebuilt from iron will,
the citadel is forged in the longest night,
its ramparts echo–“rise, persist, and kill.”
This keep is not for hiding, but for standing tall,
each specter, now a watchman on the wall,
the fortress does not shield, it answers every call–
to conquer fear, to claim each fall.
In stone and ash, new glory’s seed is sown,
the ruins of the past made sovereign ground.
So in the deep where broken dreams have flown,
let the fortress stand, its heart carved in stone–
from darkness, hope, from sorrow, strength is grown.