Who's Gonna Fill My Shoes. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The trail is narrow, the brush is thick,
The world plays many a dirty trick.
I've walked through thorns and the driving sleet,
With the blood of the hunter beneath my feet.

I never bowed to the easy way,
I fought for the light in the shadows of grey.

I've crossed the oceans, I've plowed the dirt,
I've carried the pride and I've mastered the hurt.
The leather is cracked from the miles I've run,
From the midnight cold to the burning sun.

I've left my mark on the northern stone,
A path I carved while standing alone.

So who's gonna step where the ground is steep?
And who's gonna wake while the others sleep?
Who's got the grit to endure the climb,
And leave a dent in the walls of time?

The shoes are waiting, salt-stained and wide,
For someone with nothing but honor to hide.