There Be A Tomb

There be a tomb Cold is the name…. When the winds come over the Slopes From what was the Valley The Winds will turn red with rage in the sloping Funnel The I The I The I I want to hear Winds gyrating in the Funnel And I will dusk to be past And the night-dews have Begun Peaceful I will to have a little peace amidst this Ocean Roaring in troubles A little calm in these serpent-seething lands This plain level and Cold The Mtahleb cliffs… It will be rare to hear the Symphony of the Sounds For funereal it will be Roll out the waves of subdued green And white-tongued spume at night… There were screams And shrieking rock crevices There were ghosts and shrouds And shadows They were wise Wisdom was of them For life was of then They were unknown philosophers Who carried wisdom, thought, philosophy Life was of them, life was in them. And written in them were the stars and moon.