Autumn leaves descend in amber and gold,
Whispering mythic poems and tales of old.
Life, a fleeting spark we treasure and hold,
Flickers bright before the dark and cold.

In this brief and precious time span,
What purpose guides the fate of man?
Is love the salve that mends the tear,
Or honor’s shield that conquers fear?

For love, though shadowed by the end,
Still blooms where hearts and hands extend.
It asks no promise of tomorrow,
But shares the joy, and endures the sorrow.

In honor’s forge, our brave feats are cast,
To keep a flame as present falls to past.
Not gold, nor fame, but acts of sacred worth
Are the fortress of deeds to outlive ash and earth.

Respect the hands that bear the chain
Of life’s sweet joy and mortal pain.
In kinship, find the strength to rise,
To meet the void with steadfast eyes.

Clocks may still our final breath,
But not the bonds that laugh at death.
For what we defend in life—love and honor—
Endures beyond what time can conquer.