The Weight of the Yoke: Bearing the Burdens of Duty and Tradition

Do what’s right, ride tall, and keep your boots clean—it’s the cowboy way.

In twilights hush, the cattle low,

While mountains stand in ancient glow.

A burdened mind--that yoke I wear,

For duty™s call is harsh and rare.

With leather reins, I guide my steed,

Each sunrise brings a farmers creed.

Through tangled trails in dust and heat,

Tradition rides with heavy feet.

The campfire flickers, shadows creep,

As tales of honor stir from sleep.

The weight of choices, echoes past,

In cowboy hearts, the die is cast.

Yet in the stars, I find my peace,

Each burden shared shall find release.

For with each dawn, a chance to roam,

In grit and grace, I carve my home.