|A Thousand Ravens Fly Forth|
Shadows glide across the land
As a thousand ravens fly forth
-Blocking the setting sun-
Like a a dark hand reaching from beyond the horizon.
It is Winter.
She is returning
-Reaching for me-
With beckoning fingers
To lock me once again in her icy grasp.
The Ravens surround me; singing.
It is sure this day, that Autumn has died,
Amongst the Ravens’ song.
Winter, the fierce child,
Is brought forth of a dead mother,
Amongst the Ravens’ song!
I mourn for you, dear trees,
As your essence is given unto the boiling air,
Not because your proud beauty is lost forever,
But only in light of knowing that I shall never see thee again in my few meaningless years.
You burn, but I – I am the one who dies.