Oh, so often we are troubled,
and our worldly worries are doubled,
we find ourselves astray, far and away
from the warm embrace of home.

but if we stray from the path,
we are led into the fray, swath with pitfalls
that block our way in black
flattened meadows of shadow.

men of Gondor, awaken!
the very earth is shaken,
as a harbinger shall awaken,
and the threads shall betaken

to the hands of shadow,
an owner mistaken,
and return what was lost,
though at such a cost

to the silence and safety
of the space called home.

and the heroes return, as the horns blare
on and burn into the sun of dawn
on the pillars of Minas Tirith once more,
such a score shall shine a hue so fine

as the impartial sky parts
the most wayward of hearts,
and the people cry:
“Hark! The men of Gondor are home.”