All Through the Night
In the biting dark cold
I sense the phantoms at the crossroads.
With hopes of not being intrusive,
I try to broach the spirits of the past, present and future
Craving their tutelage on how to save this old village.
This community can never be Shambhala
But it need not be inhospitable any more.
It must be made into a home.
The soldiers resumed their attack this morning;
Braving the winter to annex more moral ground.
While the army of demonic guerrillas stifle a better tomorrow,
The denials and insecurities of the placated villagers are;
However, strong armour
But only dulling the swords of their own defenders.
This place will not be easily won.