She will fly valiantly over time's abyss

If not to remember, than only to reminisce

Voyages across a thunderous black sea

Where mountains stood over the land triumphantly

The sky bled it's purple blood across the canvas of the world

She may only be a bird, but in her hands she would hold

This beautiful prism of a dying land, she would hold it in her hands

The raven is the wise, the ancient and serene

To save this world from chaos would be her short life's purest dream

But alas nothing much can be done

For she is only just a bird

The Raven



He will plunge into the icy heart of the valleys gorge

Where the shadows are the lungs of life everywhere from canyonside to fjord

He is the remnant of the reaper, to always carry on by his side

Death has never started never ceased, time he has escaped to punish those who would survive

He too is wise, ancient and cunning, a messenger for a throne bathed in black, darker than the finest shade

For in his realm there are no colors of white and black merely only grey

He would aid in destruction and the suffering of man, not the catalyst itself, but to aid the master plan

But alas nothing much can be done

For he is only just a bird

The Crow



A darker nature of intent for the one who is banished by them all

A pure attempt by the one misunderstood by those who do not hear the call

But through indifference or unjust they survive through summer's flame and winter's snow

Always bound in time by love

Sister Raven

And Brother Crow