Etruscan tombs... contemplation.

Idyll walks in windings knots
Break sojourn's stillness
With sharp knocks

Sera beacons for one more pass
Once more a glimpse
through the wafting grass

Knowing naught save the math that guides
And the soft caress
Of my own wandering eyes

Downward through the milennia, fall
To shudder among, perhaps,
The righteous walls

Where none reside
Save the microcosmic wiles
Of universal, wary tides

Alone, break the eons flow
Written from trembling hands
Of those who know;

That tiny though my life becomes
For just a moment's shadow
All was one.