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The Valley of Echoes I At the Edge of the Valley of Echoes
(1) At the Edge of the Valley of Echoes Little is written of The Valley of Echoes Though many have halted at Valley’s edge For few there are that would wander further Where only unsettled wander, looking to bed. Won’t find peace here, vibrations sing gleely This place is not for any finding ease For when life is tortured and taken so freely Here is where is paid, those signing karma’s lease. Forever walking go those Leaders, night-marching Out and about in long lines approached Those knowing them past, in horror watching Upon their path dark, none dare encroach. Oh, do they beat their dark drums slowly And moan their song so lowly Walking, the dead march As dried blood trails lead them on. Taking them down to the misty Valley Of Echoes never-ending For their monotone wishes sending Peaceful ending, rest for their Souls. For blackest vibrations are their badged glory Shrouded records for what they’ve done And no matter good intent marched before them Barbaric and feral rule were, their daily, worshiped Sun. Torture and pain, their true badges of honor Laughing, using up goodness, relished foods of choice Drawing to themselves vast greedy, gold plunders Writing their own dirge, they, with their own sour voice. For now, the song that drives them All towards the Valley Echoing From grave to sing there ever Such sad and bitter songs. From tears and blood, they splattered eating Pissing on peace and wise allowance Formed from their own ties to evil As they bullied their awful wrongs. So now, yes see what they all carry Each, most terrible baggage They thought to leave unpacked When death it finally comes. Instead they join as one Ghosts, gray parades of un-worthies Kings and minions, hoping to find salvation Forgiven horrors so amassed. Feebly limping on their own spilled blood trails They all to Valley’s entrance moaning Deposit there, vile guilts kept away from singing Aloud echoing now, held aloft. For any to hear in listening To fate’s such black bloody stories ending Instead shunned too quick away running From repeating lessons there as taught. So, do they slowly beat their dark drums slowly And still moan their songs so lowly Walking this dead moonless night, nightly Created dried blood trails lead them on. Taking them down to the misted Valley Of Echoes never-ending For combining their singing wishes, sending Pray peaceful ending rest, for their black and lonely Souls. So, you all finding such warriors wandering On nights reflected in firelight Slow on these night vigils moaning Passing by in dumbed down file. Rare there are any surprised nodding That see you in passing Upon remembrance missing you Plead please, stay, hold me awhile. For see some now, kin, here sad weeping Thinking them lost, but still good kindly men Calling out to them, through generations crying Memories pain adding, to their miseries felt then. I remember first finding there, the trail most surprising In cracklin’ timber’s in the north, marching at will Somehow in passing, a few knew my name well But nothing said, I frightened, stayed rigidly still. And then again at trails end, way up in northern Michigan The deep woods there, sang to me the same From mists that formed out, they marching silent through forest I recognized some faces, and called out one brother’s name. No ‘Hello’ call returned No ‘Hi, glad we met’ No hearty ‘Hail and be wells’ Just silent stares of deep regret. Oh, did they beat their dark drums slowly And moan their songs lowly Walking their deadened march On a dried blood trail, leading them on. Taking them to a misty Valley Of Echoes never-ending Their plaintive wishes sending For peaceful ending, rest for their Souls. Though having stirred long past, partnering memories Left I the connecting, harrowing song Only years later in Hawaii, given understanding For their shades lonely, passing right along. For years traveling in highest mountain passes In deep wilderness, lonely forests also camped Dry desert left no welcome sign out Nor jungled greenery, wet and damp. Then found I from Hawaiian storied sources Trails too, where ghosts darkly marched past Alone at night I wandered out there At valley’s edge, I quietly sat. Here too, they marched all silent walking Single file silent, slowly passing by No loved one’s echoes sang their praises Quiet dark, under moon-lit sky. Warriors and chiefs, all dragging broken weapons No parade band marching them to fame All tattered and torn, surprised, many glanced at me Most nodded silently, knowing my name. In allowance, recognized, only a solemn nod made And then away they silently went From wherever they came to where ever going No singing, just soft quiet breezes as sent. Mesmerized, surprised again, seeing past brothers Watching them ghostly pass, I cried Marching by without a sound Memories flooded up, seeing how we all had died. (to be cont’d)
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