A Crow Morning
Darkness lifts from a forest,
A misty dew falls down.
A single bird awake from its rest,
Swooping above now.
Screeching an echoing cry,
The bird takes its lonesome flight,
Flying in the dawning sky,
Wings spread out like the night.
Dark feathers shimmer in the awakening sun,
Dark eyes glisten in the sky,
A morning flight not yet done,
Another echoing cry.
For as the crow flies,
The earth awakes,
Opening it's eyes,
Another day awaits.
A flying shadow,
A coal black blur,
Flying out over a meadow,
Only a bird.
I look to the sky, eyes closed; I let it all in.
The rain hits my face, a familiar, comforting sting.
Darkness is swallowing me, but I am not afraid.
I will come back here someday, surrounded by peace.
I can already feel the sunshine on my face. I can already feel myself slipping.
I am not afraid.