Darkness, like death, has no boundaries; it is limitless and unending, without beginning and without end. So too is the darkness of delivered truth, in which there is only one permissible answer, with the stake the reward for heresy. The steady march of the hate-filled religion of progressivism, only briefly and episodically interrupted, continues apace, leading ultimately and inevitably to the darkness of the soul and the extinguishing of the nation.

Darkness is the death of light
The loss of consciousness of sight
The dread of living in the lengthening night
Where memory is all
A nation, too, can into darkness fall
And see the death of its clear shining light
Slow darkened death of what was once so bright
In hands of those who claim they have the right
To say what one may think or may recite
And memory is all
Their truth is written in the living stone
To live in marrow and in bone
No opposition will those truths condone
Redress a darkened pall
We have what’s left of what was once before
When men could choose from either or
With freedom dying on a lonely shore
And memory is all