The West is in decline. Twilight in the West is here, and the long, dark night approaches. The barbarians that night will bring, as they have in the past, have the element of surprise on their side. We are not expecting them, and seat ourselves at tables of plenty and dance the day away in revelry and song as they gather for the coming slaughter. Their minds are on war, and winning it, while ours are on the gratification of our immediate desires.

Those who have seen them approaching are few, and are ignored by the experts and analysts who tell everyone that nothing is wrong, and that everything is right, and that while there may be barbarians at the gate, we shall swat them like flies as needed, and the feast goes on.

The few who dare see the approaching Shadow are the last defenders of the West. Will you be one of them? Will you find your Andúril, the sword that was broken and remade, and raise it in defense of the West?


The wall has been abandoned long ago.
However, still, some eyes can see afar --
East from the City on a Hill, a glow
That brightens under growing clouds of war.

Will swords once bright -- now dimmed from lack of care --
In 'wakening cry of rally now be raised?
Lost hearts be found, to conquer grim despair?
Ill winds be stood against, with courage praised?

Gone are the watchful guardians of the West;
Health sapped by wishful poisons of the mind
They slipped away to inner chambers dressed
Of pearls and lace with which they then entwined.

Fear of their enemy had quickly gone
The day that vict'ry won was loudly trumped.
Had any thought that trickery was done
Entered their minds, it very soon was dumped.

Will errors made be righted once again
Ere enemies thought dead find a new throne?
Shall Western hearts be taught to shun that reign --
To bow before the King of Kings alone?