solemn,
feast of petrification,
reaching shadows, numb,
antiquated forms angled
to tragic light,
in sight
of setting sun.

voiceless,
their moaning,
in Masonic grey,
Dreadful moss on sunken pool,
in empty paths,
of day.

heaving,
the still breathing
in stone,
pigments morphed
rustic white,
all life, akin to bone.

haughtily,
the haunted hunger,
glory, to blossomed doom,
stillness
of deepest time,
in roots
of shadowed moon.

echoes,
noosed on loathsome branches,
Strange Fruit, centered,
with lidless eye,
demanding the gorging
of graying meat,
from those who fear to die.