I still remember the day the sunset fell upon the old land…
The
land over which the bells sang,
A
symphony of pianos.
The
warmth of the sun fading,
The
shadows along the harvest fields evading,
Every
whispered brush and weed on the horizon.
This
is the masterpiece upon which this story unfolds.
To
the heart listening, embolds
We
then travel back in time,
Upon
a vessel created by wind,
Lost
in whispering rhyme.
The
bells begin ringing again.
Subtly,
softly, the smaller ones being led even by the breeze.
The
calm, cool zephyr passes over them like a glance.
Revealing,
unveiling, a time lost, a time forgotten.
I
remember the children of these days.
So
sober. So lost.
Indeed,
they were.
Thrust
into encampments, taken from their rightful caregivers, indoctrinated into
believing the lie.
The
lie about the change they were planning.
In a
swift wind, they reframed the fabric of society.
Eliminating
even the memory of the old.
And
the ways the bells rang all the way into that day.
They
rang…
They
rang…
They
never stopped…
They
rang like thunder.
What
is left of that era.
That
golden era.
Eternities
have passed.
Yet,
really, only a century has passed.
The
remnant of those days…
The
bells have been collected and turned into bullets.
Others
stand erect and buried beneath the tides of time.
Fading…
Fading…
A
whisper.
A
memory.
This
is how you murder a memory.
An
age.
A
golden age.
The
bells now lay, cracked and buried.
Buried
within the sand of a distant time.
There
once stood a civilization so great…
So
vast…
That
it had dominated the earth.
It
did so in the name of Jehovah.
And
by the name of Jehovah, it conquered.
It
conquered in love and the vitality of life.
Has
it truly been so long?
Have
we truly allowed ourselves to forget?
That
distant land,
That
vast, unconquerable land that stood for centuries.
How
great did you fall, o’ Tartaria!
It
was not by weapons that you did fall.
Nor
by plague or storm that you met your end.
It
was through a quiet assimilation.
A
docile and unviolent invasion.
The
peoples of other lands with their evil ideologies
Poison
astrology chose to overtake you.
And
to burden you with their plight.
They
came first as children.
Unknown
to even their orphan mothers.
Their
clothes as tattered rags,
Seeking
help and aid.
They
marred their appearance,
And
sand a consistent dirge of mourning.
For
their state was no more and no less
Than
a tragedy.
How
bold you were, o’ Tartaria,
How
compassionate.
How
noble.
To
extend your helping hand.
For
in that time,
Even
these children of darkness,
Who
marred their appearance,
Who
did so for sympathy’s sake
And
who for evil intent did take,
Were
of a far lesser number.
For
at your height, o’ Tartaria,
You
were grand.
You
ruled through and with our LORD,
All
the land.
And
the noble architecture of your creation,
What
you had created through our LORD,
Was
evident across all the world,
Your
entire empire,
From
its home in Asia,
To
the tip of South America,
Reigned.
You
were vastly, unutterably unconquerable.
And
you know why?
Who
would want to conquer a loving and peaceful people of this breed?
When
the children of darkness came,
They
overtook the population,
Quickly
subduing the gentle nation,
With
force, with coercion, with manipulation.
Never
before had the Tararians seen such deceit,
Such
deception and such lies.
They
began to take up weapons,
Anything
they could,
They
began to take up words,
As
evil as they could,
For
a lie against the innocent is as evil as a gunshot,
They
subdued them until the truth about their existence,
Was
erased from memory and history book.
When
Jehovah God saw the evil happening in the world,
That
all of His innocent children had been destroyed,
He
flooded the continents, nations and all.
For
He resolved.
Having
resolved to never again destroy the world by water.
The
children of darkness were more shrewd than the children of light.
O’
Tartaria! How great is your loss?
Until
only the children remained.
Only
Tartarian children were remaining.
The
children of darkness did what they would with them.
Packing
them up, sending them out, placing them into trains
Headed
for sanitoriums.
The
orphanages of long ago,
How
tall you stood?
You
housed a nation of people.
A
nation of people who were never again,
Never
again permitted to speak the truth.
The
mental asylums of long ago,
How
tall and how grand you stood?
Having
stood even in the architecture that you had created,
O’
Tartaria, a nation of people, who were never again,
Never
again permitted to speak the truth.
The
truth about what happened to you, buried and erased,
In
the single stroke of evil men’s swipe.
The
world fairs came, erecting massive monuments of glorious splendor,
In a
matter of days?
Was
it really possible? Did anyone really care?
It
was a way to eliminate the records of a previous age,
A
golden age.
An
age that proved that God was center.
That
God not only existed but triumphed.
An
age that proved that vulnerability was beautiful.
Innocence
is beautiful.
Children
of darkness, what have you created?
Where
are your legacies to posterity?
Where
is your honor to ardor?
No
matter,
The
children of light,
The
vulnerables,
The
children,
Are
the ones who will inherit the real life.
