as the winds
gently touch the flowers,
they whisper,
the songs, the melody
the beautiful notes of those forgotten,
inside of the garden
the music plays,
inside of the garden
the raven dances
into the night
into the darkness

shadows cover the garden,
melodies once heard
only leave a feint echo
of that now
what is left
once from the great dance
alone, the Raven gazes upon
the sadness of the garden

reflected by the moonlight
that which
the naked eye cant see
the human hand cant touch
a feel, emotion
beyond the comprehensiveness
of the mind
reaching out,
the raven opens its wings
taking flight
into the great night

once a keeper of the garden
a holder of the secrets
the moon
witnessed the melding
of a great being
with that, which now
is
only a shadow
of its former self.