I traveled past the highland, the vale passes,
Strange alien voices I overheard.
My people lost in muses, but these alien eagles
Indifferent to the approaching thunder they would call.
To the red color rain frequenting our place
With reproach, ridicule and gibe their acts spoke.
Thought blind should we say
Or benighted and ineptly incogitant they are?
Their marches trampled buds and saplings,
Erased many gardens of bloom
The clanking of armory,
The noise of the alien war metal sung a death tune
Our attires are blood soaked they don’t see,
Our souls injured by draggers of deceit.
For them we are mortuary harvest,
A head count of culled heads is all they see.
Our bodies may have been forced to wither soon,
Souls are bound to live eternity
Departed souls living in faith,
Etching in us the tablet of belief,
The baton passing frames of time
The aliens refuse oblivion that stares their acts,
The lemming fate that they all shall reap
The soul shall live, the garden shall bloom again
Shall bloom again
25th August 2011