Raven

April 4, 2016

 

Once upon a time, a long, long time,

Winter loosed its callid grip.

Amidst the rising waters, whispered and stirred,

from their berth, flew a dark cloud.

It grew eyes, dragon feet,

and mind sharp as midnight hour.

It blossomed blacken plume,

a velt, knighten flower,

blackest rose of winter.

Eyes like the sun, tongue like the moon,

tail splayed in stars, wings, voiceless as time,

cries sonorous, “aawk, aawk, awake!”

wakes the dawn.

Grey wolf, bronzed man,

Yes, man of smoke and flame, follows.

The dark, svelt angel,

who heralds the vast, spirit worlds,

above the earth yet red in tooth and claw,

he bays, death’s hound, at the open wide gate

of the savage moon.

Friend, foe and mocking one,

his bill severs the night, flesh from bone and blood.

Eyes like jack-o-lanterns burning,

speak riddles, sing of truth and lies.

Is he life or death?

A celestial ferryman of souls,

or hungry ghost, swallowing lands,

fallen-one, given wings to mount the night

a disgraced Lancelot, guarding the wilds,

Memory of Odin, ever alight?

Who is he, of matter and spirit,

our hopes, dreams, kindness, cruelties, questionings and fright?

ra

 

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