Bushey Cemetery
In a night without tears,
in wich no quakes where enough
to make a light,
the same in wich the ravens voices,
made it clear the sublime insomnia.
I could see the light!
That totally obscure,
made my own madness look.
The cemetery was to live now.
Blind shadow in the moonlight...
Copyright © James Marchiori | Year Posted 2015
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