The Tomb Poem by James Timothy Jarrett

The smell of mildew hangs in the air, thick
and pervasive, pungent and strong, permeated
with the feeling of damp stone, of chambers
long sealed. Places long starved of the
life giving sun. Darkness hangs like a
silken veil softly entangling the room in
blackness, leaving aught but the faintest
memory of sight.Forms seen, black against
black swirl in liquid darkness.Etheral
beings born of the torment of men, creatures
of anguish eddying silently about.