The raven

The bleak black raven soars alone through the sky
In its solitary kingdom
It swoops down around my lost and lonely frame
Effortless and free
As if it knows
Something has died inside of me.

It soars then stops
Landing, perching, searching
We are alone together
But it is not my friend

It does not seek the answers
Or search for new hope in missed chances
It doesn’t know grief, not sadness, nor pain
But we both inhabit this rock as if we are the same.

It follows my gaze as if staring into my soul
But I know it knows nothing`
Of my fear, my loss; this fortress, this wall
This case I build around myself
When I fear I’ve lost it all.

It soars as I run
Far away
I lose then I run, again and again
Run from mistakes that I cannot face
Run from this sadness
As if sadness has a place

Has a home
No raven, I can’t go there
I can’t go back, I need to be alone
I can’t learn from the past.
Where can you take me?
Where can I go?
When I’m lost and I’m running and finding no hope.

And then it is gone
And I’m alone on the moor
It escaped from my grasp, as I was over thinking it all
The raven, the raven, it has no answers
But is well versed in metaphor.

Published by

Twigg

wandering, laughing, boycotting evil, environmentalism, puns, vegetarianism, writing, annoying whoever will stick around long enough, writing music, singing, innuendo, busking, snowboarding and awkward leaning are all things I'm either enjoying or attempting with varying degrees of success.

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