The rout at Tamarisk Bay
I wend my way
to Tamarisk Bay.
White sands glow
beyond the foe.
Amid pink trees
and whispered breeze
I hear the lilt
of haunting guilt
as pipes intone
a strangled moan
for sacred things
ripped from kings
while throngs gazed
at beauty razed
and cowered mute
when fear did suit.
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