The Road runs West from Rivendell.
We journey home, our tales to tell.
To them, the terror then so fell,
It fades... it's growing dim.
Tho this should be bright Autumn day,
My heart is chilled, my sight is grey.
And gleam of hope seems far away,
I fear...it's growing dim.
Again in Spring when all is fair,
Midst ache of old wounds hard to bear,
For me the sun-bedazzled air
Is dark...it's growing dim.
I wander, lost, in realms of night,
In fear of blade and sting and bite -
Pursue in vain the healing light -
It fades...it's growing dim.
Another Spring, another year...
This wound grows deeper yet I fear.
No hope of peace and wholeness here.
It flies...it's growing dim.
So I will take the Road again
From Havens to Valar's domain.
In Undying Lands, undying pain
At last...it's growing dim.