the raven

there is a raven
and a black crow
who stands and watches
with a calm and knowing eye
and if I wish
can eat my heart out with his darkness

he is not for wind or sky or stream
his song is not of sweetness
he exists only to remind

he sits sentinel
to my soul
perched on the thin edge of my fallibility

he is guardian of my downfall
seer of my fragility
witness to my smallness
and all my thoughts of ill-doing
become his history

he is shani, yama and shiva
lord of my death
prophet of my future
and in his stillness

preserver of my everness

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