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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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