The Valley of Echoes

III - Reasoning Errors - The Shamans

Warriors all lamed

Four Forgiveness’s forgot

Hell punishes Self.

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And then I stooped... saying

While picking up a handful of blighted sand

Throwing it into the wind

To be carried to a better land, for man.

'Still, darkest echoes they do remain here

From horrors given, this war, or that

Charges at death through victories, defeats

While evil crowned either way, so proudly sat.

So many proud songs at camp, faded, long gone

Our own hearts in guilt bled out, as had been pierced

As they, and you in time too, that also life defeats

Kings, knights, and warriors cry here, no longer fierce.

Leaving brothers all past, within black memories, gone

No need now for chats, in long talks of wrongs

What’s done is done, and that is that

So why live these black, sorrowed songs?

Still comes more, those beating dark drums lowly

All dead moaning, such sad songs slowly

These walking dead marching as judged

Dried blood trails leading them on.

No light comes to this dark, wronged Valley

Of sown and reaped Echoes never-ending

No release, those wishes sending for

A final ending, peaceful resting for their souls.

For though brothers walk in

Knowing so little truth

Guilty, judge you all with washed hands

Leaving this, as it is.

No debate, leaving only questions

Moaning in the air

Only sentence's you give them

Allow continuing trails, like this.

Their souls are torn, and seem rendered lost

Sending them walking here

Lost as they are, through eternity’s pain

With judgment's foul placing, echoing fear

Making sure they’re all, all treated the same.

And I, in watching them as they quietly passed

Seeing again evil war’s, manifesting cost

I too did weep, wished myself the better man

Only with luck saved, I too not lost.

For when the sabers, bows, guns, and clubs are drawn

Fists raised in haste with worded passions deep

To march and fight as parents supplied

Boys told, go sowing, bloody fields to reap.

Not farm or loved ones

Waited at that Devil’s gate entrance

Begging them wise hindrance, please turn back

For in seeing sons off, only terrible seeds to be sown

Imprinted rules allowing excess, dismissing karma

Giving no slack.

So yes, comes these ghosts beating dark drums slowly

All moaning, such sad songs lowly

My brothers, with all dead others marching

Dried blood trails now leading them on.

Seeing no light comes to this dark Valley

Of reaped Echoes crying, never-ending

No release, though eternal wishes sending for

A final ending, peaceful resting for their souls.