The nudity of your tomb

I like the nudity of your tomb, the ground of dead leaves, the surrounding forest. I like the simplicity of tone memory, the song of the birds which take care you, the gallop of the animals around you in one night without the moon. I like the unicity of this place lost in the forest. It is necessary to want to find you. That arrived to me by chance, by inadvertency. Since, I forgot the address more of it, nor the place. There to return became easy, like a required passage to hear the forest, to like it. You were buried after being guillotined; you it abbot. It was during the revolution. A long time ago but since the hole where your head fell ever could be filled. There remains open beside your tomb. One speaks about curse, of legend. One speaks and one speaks. And you, in the forest, you rest in peace. On your tomb, one poses small crosses ridges of brushwood. In exchange, you for trifles are asked. I do not know if that goes or went one day. Is this really your office? Me, I like the nudity of your tomb, the simplicity of the place where you are buried. I had the chance to meet it.