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Nested like treasures priceless, eagle parents watch over the brood On an island far away from the city, I beheld in a vision of azure blue A rural settlement in waste laying, arid with black bile A desolate, decaying riverine pride Above sunken war canoes and ores only dead men mine Tricked and deprived of life, Numb but not from the rum they had drunk while on Earth Now with the blood drained from their faces and their skins ashen I saw nearly all their sinews rot away in split seconds And their peaceful joy was pillaged Yet unerring, inert, and grave quiet In abundance of wealth they stayed barren Cold, and stalled Never had I seen such looping stagnancy, Their fire had no warmth or vigor Never had I seen such perfection made otiose by life's rigor I asked the meaning of the spirit who carried me and one vocalized Your ancestors require light they cite The blood of brothers and virgins recite Tears that never dry until honor is given to their sacrifice And their bones are brought up to rest through rites Shall there be feasting made to honor these who fought for heritage? They knew not Christ Gutty in the face of drowning deepness With none to cheer them on with sweetness If their lives become a graceful adage Shall they also be examples to our young? Shall their stories not be told around great bonfires? Shall their odes not be sung at evenings? As they dine with the gods by whom they're sired Who shall reverse their unworthy demise? Who shall carry them to sleep in the warmth of the land they sunk for? They who stood to hold the bows for their hearthstone And suffered the ravaging of foes, even reptilian fate Possessing virtues in excess yet killed like beings worthless Dying with seeds unplanted, and many wrested Their houses are like deserts, their fields are barren and corrupted Their spirits are rejected for the paths they travelled Who shall lift their curses of hell and squander? Who shall reach them now? Who shall heal their broken spirits in the world after?
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