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The Changing Raven

Dusk’s hour arrives
Its blue casts
A shady glow

His words speak
To me
Like an open book

History begins to
Wear the past
Shearing it to fine points

He wants to be
A change
To the world

Ravens fly freely
As pure birds sink to the ground
At the coming night

I never know
The raven’s tale
Until the end

Feeling numb
Its black wings soar
To disappear

A bloody white feather
Touches me
His words are whispered

Azure is no more
As the coal’s fire
Dwindles into ashy nothing

At the tilt of the moon
I can make
Silver turn true

The raven’s breath
Sings in my ear
Laughing at its fate

It will not listen
To his words
Spiteful of the dove’s freedom

The dove circles the clock tower
Waiting the turn
For anguish left behind

Final hours await
Scarlet streaks the blackened sky
Tinting its unclouded color

He speaks out
Destroy the sin and
Set the raven free

The dove watches me
Unwillingly to part the
Sky

Small ocher rays
Shine into her
Healing her bruised heart

The raven’s meaningless
Cries wind
Into a spiral

Black blood may never
Understand
We can only tell them the story

Of how blood once fought
Ancestry howling to be heard
Wanting to be first

Ravens are here
Not to harm
But to survival this harsh world

His words are true
Blood that once mattered
May be left, but not forgotten

The birds fly
Together
Black melding into white

Seeping slowly
Into the quiet town
Is the cerulean dawn

More ravens flutter
To the weather vane’s
Arrow

It points to the East
Then turns to the wind
And faces the West

Both the night and day
Can spin the world
Into sunrise

Changing starts
With the thought
Of good

It turns the blackest
Of ravens
Pure

My white wings are
Free of the splashed ruby
For the simple thought of:

Letting the raven go
Because inside
He is crying.





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