The Slaughter Of Innocence a Dirge For The Fallen Race Poem by Dave Dafes

Where have you gone, O golden days,
When innocence crowned our ways?
The rivers sang, the trees rejoiced,
And life was clothed in heaven's voice.
But oh, the day the silence broke,
The whispered lie, the curse it spoke.
A fruit was plucked, a trust betrayed,
And innocence, in dust, was laid.
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Woe to the children of Eden lost,
Who bartered their birthright ‘n' counted, not the cost.
The garden weeps where no foot treads,
A paradise now filled with dread.
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Our hands, once clean, now stained with grief,
Our laughter fled like autumn's leaf.
The light that bathed our naked grace,
Has dimmed to shadow's cold embrace.
No longer friends of Earth ‘n' sky,
The beasts now fear the hunter's eye.
The gentle lamb now flees in vain,
For man has learned the ways of Cain.
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Woe to the earth that drinks our blood,
A harvest reaped in sin's dark flood.
The winds howl sorrow, the oceans groan,
For we have shattered flesh and bone.
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We build our towers to touch the stars,
Yet dwell beneath the curse of scars.
We craft our idols, name them wise,
Yet, truth is drowned in hollow lies.
O sons of dust, how far we've strayed!
We mock the One whose breath us made.
We grasp at knowledge, vain and wild,
Yet lost the heart of a trusting child.
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Woe to the wisdom that cannot save,
A book of knowledge, yet an empty grave.
For man would rise, yet fall once more,
Chained by the death, he seeks to ignore.
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But hush, O earth, for mercy weeps,
A crimson tide where judgment sleeps.
One comes to break the gates of doom,
To raise the fallen from their tomb.
O distant hope, O grace divine,
Restore us to the Love once thine.
For dust we are, yet breathe once more,
If heaven's hand would lift the poor.
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O Ancient Voice, hear now our cry,
Revive the dead, and let us rise.
For though we mourn the path we trod,
Yet mercy triumphs—O Lamb of God.