Slowly, The Mills of Gods Grind #watty2018 #featured #complete

The Price of Their Sins

But rage becomes a terrible thing,

For it eats at the heart of our rightful king.

And they take that wrath and bring it along,

Giving it to their own son's to bear their own cross?

Of grievous retreats and for all that they lost.
        
But how long will it take for the atonement too be gone,

By by acts of our men and what they had done!

For mockery of men that were made, but was on the clans of our men on that one day!

And they shan't not be gone till the power of their kings, sorely fade-they away!
    
But as we surely are the sons and daughters, we shall ner' forget,

Of what they did to our men, then shall we never forgive, as well as they met.

And still we have retained sins of our forefathers clan,

For which we can never let go of what they want us to know,

Of the sins of our men and what happened in those lands so very, long ago!

The howling of winds, that flows down from the north are all so cold,

Following the road the weather will blow, to bring us the story from that storm.

They were the ones who held the true story of our men, deep in their souls.

And they are the people who were long foretold,

Men of history that carried this lore.