The Inevitableness of Dementia
Hessa, Hessa, married to their virtues and chastity
Notoriously infatuated with the lands of her Arabian descendants
Take no heed to the innocence of their minds
When they laugh at your yearning tenderness for it's skies
Sticks and stones of martyrs bones
Lay beneath the terrain's once glistening shores
And you adulate the memories built in this home
Of a land ravaged by terror and ignorance galore.
Destiny, destiny was once her name
When she saw the immaculate benevolence of the blind and lame
How they loved life and its alms
How the rich thrived off fornication and manmade barbarous bombs
For nature and its allure does not allow bearing winds to whisper of sabotage
Even for a second of a mourning heart
But cries to us through the imaginative depictions traced through her art
And the the velveteen sheer of an arid night
Hessa devoted to this quarry, this land so benign
The crystalline rivers requiting her love, as they raced the water's creatures
The terrain so haggard in its countenance, touched by 100 years of solitude
Yet so arcane in it's wilting trees and verdant visuality
With mountains that briskly kissed the heavens in gratitude for their ambience
Not knowing that even their tenacity could not protect them from massacre
And the land and oceans were limited in their days as well.
No being, no man, no hint of existence
Will concur or prevail the power to remember
Hessa, Hessa, wedded to her memories
Of 100 years of solitude in her Arabian lands.
Notoriously infatuated with the lands of her Arabian descendants
Take no heed to the innocence of their minds
When they laugh at your yearning tenderness for it's skies
Sticks and stones of martyrs bones
Lay beneath the terrain's once glistening shores
And you adulate the memories built in this home
Of a land ravaged by terror and ignorance galore.
Destiny, destiny was once her name
When she saw the immaculate benevolence of the blind and lame
How they loved life and its alms
How the rich thrived off fornication and manmade barbarous bombs
For nature and its allure does not allow bearing winds to whisper of sabotage
Even for a second of a mourning heart
But cries to us through the imaginative depictions traced through her art
And the the velveteen sheer of an arid night
Hessa devoted to this quarry, this land so benign
The crystalline rivers requiting her love, as they raced the water's creatures
The terrain so haggard in its countenance, touched by 100 years of solitude
Yet so arcane in it's wilting trees and verdant visuality
With mountains that briskly kissed the heavens in gratitude for their ambience
Not knowing that even their tenacity could not protect them from massacre
And the land and oceans were limited in their days as well.
No being, no man, no hint of existence
Will concur or prevail the power to remember
Hessa, Hessa, wedded to her memories
Of 100 years of solitude in her Arabian lands.