The Wend

Arkose glowing red and the past long gone

Broken iron clay and bones sunk in creeks

Cries and hurting moans reaching from the void

Deprived of their voice and trapped in the dust

Echoing the age of murder and gore

Fighting in their hearts the conquerors siege

Guilty absolution refused for all time

Hatred and revenge flowing in fresh veins

Ingesting the poison slowing down the quest

Jaws swollen from screams, eyes red from despair

Knuckles tightened hard and ready to claim

Left with no remorse, sympathy or will

Mourning what could be and what have been lost

Nights loud with the fear and whispers abound

Of bloodshed untold and buried behind

Purging the old sins

Questioning the dues

Righteous to oblivion, robbing sacred ground

Singing the proud song of doings not fair

Truth woven in haze of the morning light

Upheaval of souls longing to resolve

Victory so bitter, so barren, so vain

What hunts from the tales can not be undone

Xenophobic dread of story reply

Yearning for forgiveness never truly theirs

Zenith so elusive and coursed for all time