March of the Uncertain Dawn

The boots strike earth like a verdict,
Dust rising in little rebellions.
Someone whispers, “Forward is only a rumor,”  
But we move because the order says move.
Duty pulls us like an unseen tide,
Dragging us from the shores of who we were.

The sergeant calls cadence like a prophet out of breath,
Voice cracking under the weight of inevitability.
Above us, the sky feels scripted,
As if the clouds already know our fates
And pity us from their unreachable height.

And we march, though the road keeps shifting,
We march, though the truth keeps drifting.
Every step a question the dawn won’t answer,
Every heartbeat a bargain we never agreed to.

Someone laughs too loudly,
Trying to outrun the fear that stalks behind.
The horizon flickers like a failing stage light,
Revealing the cracks in our courage.
Frank mutters a prayer that folds in on itself,
A moment collapsing into one chosen path
While all the others vanish.

We are characters in a tragedy
Whose author refuses to show his face.
We walk the line between valor and longing,
Between the world we left
And the one waiting to judge us.

We march...we march
And we march, though the road keeps shifting,
We march, though the truth keeps drifting.
Every step a question the dawn won’t answer,
Every heartbeat a bargain we never agreed to.

The sun rises like a reluctant witness,
And we keep moving toward it,
Knowing it will burn us
Before it warms us.