Dante's Grave.

For Ravenna.
 
He saw the grave of Dante.
 He saw the gilded hotel that was a lady in her time, yet closed for the season. All about her circumference, where umbrellas closed like a slumbering chrysalis, as pinkish hues and cherubs mingled, carrying burden baskets of pomegranates to an ungrateful sea. He saw the grave of Dante. Where the students tread about the tomb. There eyes were closed to its wonder. Their scarfs of finest wool that choked their minds. They saw not art of stories told, yet vainglory of a perfect picture.  The lust of the mere moment.They did not see.
 
The daunting journey through the mind
The faces wound in discontent
The eyes amid the harpies wood
The boiled blood of souls
The hands that bore a testament
The burden of Sisyphus
The brandished swords that slit the tongues of thieves
The moaning of the sky god, his back burdened  by the realm that rends no light
The journey that lay within us all, smocked with horror and wonder
The golden heart of adventure
The sailing wings upon the queen of heaven
The emerald eyes of Beatrice
The messenger who fell dead and gone
The final coin in the hand of Charon
I saw the grave of Dante, awash in the sands of time
I saw he who was myself
Was humbled by his rhyme.
 
I have seen the poet embedded in a scroll
 
I have called upon my brother-for now I feel whole.
Farewell comrade.
 
Addio amico