"Death, be not proud,"

"Death, be not proud,"
For valor lives and never dies.
The profound in jest, the wise in folly,
In every heart, a battle's won,
When fear is faced, and duty done.

A conceit of courage, bold and grand,
Bridging chasms to freedom's land.
Irony's compass, in hand so firm,
A jest at fate, a playful scorn,
As valor walks upon the earth.

Though shadows loom and darkness falls,
The brave heart heeds the distant calls.
For in the night, where silence reigns,
The spirit stirs, the soul remains,
For death is but a fleeting door.

The final breath, a gateway clear,
To lands where heroes shed no tear,
And in our hearts, we carry through,
The echo of the valiant's creed,
A testament to every deed.

In life, in death, we stand as one;
So death, be not so vainly proud,
For valor's tale is never done.
With every dawn, we rise anew,
Embracing skies of brightest hue.