Summary: Another random bit of poetry that came to me while reflecting on "The Silmarillion." Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Never in my wildest dreams could I pretend to own such genius.
Author's Note: Yeah, so clearly I decided to play around with the capitalization in this one; but I swear, there really is a method to my madness! Shouldn't be too hard to figure out...I hope.
Wind brings forth the Betrayers,
Batters those they betrayed.
It howls like a wolf in the forsaken Wastes,
Drives deep like a knife on a cold Mountain face.
Wind whips through the Pass that Two call their home,
And carries the song of One now alone.
Wind spurs on the fire which covers the Plains,
Which month after month burns again, and again.
Bones piled high in a Mound feel the breeze,
Not enough Tears their sorrow to ease.
The wind stirs a Cry for no Mortal ears,
Because once even He did cower in fear.
The Windlords may tell of all they have seen,
While keeping their watch on a Hill bright and green.
But even the wind no echo shall bear
Of wailings that cry to the Westernmost air.