Walking by an old graveyard
On a late Sunday afternoon
I noticed a figure at guard
Waiting for the peek of the full moon

Dressed in a black robe
Doing sort of prayer ritual
His hand hanging like a lobe
A rare type to my own visual

I dared not to go near the figure
As it looked busy praying
Unable to control my eager
Too keen to see, what it was doing

As I moved closer to the bushes
I heard voices chanting something
A chill up my spine, I felt the pushes
But on notice, there was nothing

I read somewhere that chanting has power
To see if it really worked
I stayed to witness for another hour
Than I became totally shocked

***** of fire floating away with each chant
My vision widened to see what it wants
A step nearer to the place of ritual
I must admit am purely spiritual

Black smoke rouse in the air
Like thousand tongues, the voices grew
Two robe figures sitting in a pair
I was thrilled by the astonishing view

Almost watching for nearly two hours
I was scared as well as inquisitive
Then came the heavy pouring showers
Yet the floating flames were active

I was unware as I was being watched
Caring less they continued to pray
They had a sweet tooth for carcass, washed
Hungrily they grabbed in to prey

Running home, as I caught up with my breath
What I saw today was a crazy unbelievable ****
Such rituals of what!! for people after death
I rather change my route,
                     before they show me their wrath...


©sim