Some make strides forward
all at once, gain their gait.
Others stand erect, or crouch
for that position,
stance, held now.
In what we have together
in common, is not extinguished
by the death of any one,
but carried forward,
so aloft, your brave hearts.
Us, as those
hunting prides immemorial,
are often found,
freedom tracking
in loose formation.
Some have masks, others shields,
many both,
some apparently, none.
All are good, have their time,
choice, chosen portion.
Yet know Lion, your place
now is painted,
shaped by you alone.
upon stamping grounds
and happy hunting trails.
Recognise them, as us,
hearken to the call
as you step
forward stealthily or leap,
as is your way.
For be that formation,
your part, warrior.
Not cast out,
nor always seen,
near cloaked.
Be you always able, more than able
to call wise ones,
them knowing,
instinct, being Lion,
love, feasting, play.