Sweet Cawing

I can see…the future – I can see it through black pools of ink…

I’m drowning…

I’m falling into beady, olive eyes – I can see the future through the eyes of a crow.

One sphere holds only smiles…

…and the other – nothing but creasing frowns.

He’s crying and he’s watching – Showing me what’s to come.

I’m listening to the morning crow…

…as he ‘caws’ out stories of glee…

I’m listening to the night crow…

As he sings out sweet deaths, only the earth wept for.

Sweet yet rigid voice – singing away in my head.

He’s telling me the phenomena’s of the year and tragedies of a century.

Beautiful symbol of death he is – so beautiful…and delicate.

Keep playing your performance of nature….

Keep singing away my mind….

The singing of the crow…

The lullabies that put me to sleep…

The secrets of the world whirling around in me.

Sing little crow…

Sing little crow…