Grave Series Comments

Agile wind with unruly passion over the grave, Roving with hearts heavy the residents of necropolis. Grave shifts as fair place, restless breeze palanquin

The moon is on her glory over white canopy, The twinkle of little stars cluster around, The howling from thick bush deepens the silence, from a macabre cell a macrocephalus appears, Mephistophelian spirit of ancient Greek, sailing across tomb from thousand years, sucking darkness of night before temple of God, he vanishes into foggy trunk of black boscage. .....beautiful

Souls eager to sail! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.