Baskadia

Sweet melancholy of stunning face by my crib.

The Silent sound of my death rattle.

I hike facets.

In resplendent apparel of grace.

Listening to the dark choir of the night.

As the Nightingale plays the lullaby.

The night of the dark moment.

Whispering in the ear of every head.

Do not mourn my demise!

On a segue to a beautiful land.

Seek solace in your storm.

I live in death.

I am not dead!

I live daily

In tranquility in one big Sauna.

I bid goodbyel.

© Ferdinand