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(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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