I still visit your grave
Among the graves above the bay
The flowering sculpture garden
Where it’s always spring about
To happen and the stones lean out
As if taking their first steps
After all it was death
That inspired architecture
The stones rolled away
Revealing a little room
And the idea of a dome
Was born in the ravaged body
I come to guard above the waves
And though I feel you everywhere
This was the last place you were seen
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