One last train ride. One last turn of the wheel. One last whisp of black smoke from the pyre. The music is invisible. Each note brought respectfully on a bier draped round with crepe to absorb the vibrations. To amplify the womb of creation.
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
One last train ride. One last turn of the wheel. One last whisp of black smoke from the pyre. The music is invisible. Each note brought respectfully on a bier draped round with crepe to absorb the vibrations. To amplify the womb of creation.