Black is the color of a shreek in the night, piercing the wind with the sound of delight,
Black is the feeling of the hair on Raven's head, telling a story that is still unread,
Black is the touch of a soft raven's wing, brushing your face like a cold winter's dream,
Black is the sight of a blooming black rose, showing that death is not far from your home,
Black is the taste of a grieving widow's soul, feeding you compasion that makes you go cold,
Black is the smell of a mother's old perfume, telling you stories of a time that haunts you,
Black is the sight of a loved one falling to the ground, gasping for air without making a sound,
Black is a mixture of many horrid things, that teaches us a lesson without really saying.