The Witness It was a cold and stormy night, I’d have been glad to have been home, In it’s warmth and light. Never again to have to roam. I am alone in this cold and black land, Where there remains no joy, No clear blue sky, no golden sand. No happy lass, no joyous boy. All around the vicious scars of hate and fear, In this land of sin and sorrow. All is gone the heart once held dear, The light, the love, the hope of ‘morrow. War, sickness and death abound, And everywhere I looked, Black hearts were all I found And worse, All the graves were booked. For the killing and slaying would not cease, Until they were all gone, Victims of murder, mayhem and disease, Never again would there be a dawn. I rode on in a cloud of dust, And only once I turned. To see the results of hatred, greed and lust, And cried as earth’s final fire burned. D.J. Quinn 8/9/1996 | 
