friend poetry

i flung my soul to the air like a falcon flying
the endless, foolish merriment of stars
be in me as the eternal moods
what spiteful chance steals unawares
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
often is it not so?
to be able to see every side of every question
grieve not for the invisible
we who stood
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
green afternoon serene and bright