You sit under a streetlamp
Contemplating the cracked glass
Of your flickering appearance
You thought you were alone.

But here I stand watching you as you watch me.
Unaware of your silent company unaware
Of how your shadows call to mine
Unaware
Of how the moonlight guides our every move
As we hear the pendulum swing
As we dance upon the curtails of the flock.

We were lingering too long in the back of the line
We were waiting for the life afforded
We were once something great.
They said it was impossible
But we will not miss it again.
We will not leave it behind for the unworthy to find.

So it will sing.
It is singing.  
It is singing it is
A caged bird and it is singing.
It is still singing it is
A caged bird and it is
Still
Singing.
They thought it a simple bluebird.
But you were a masquerading raven.
You sang softly,

‘I hear the sound of waves pouring over me
I hear the sound of beaches settling the sea
I hear the sound of armies trudging through the sand
I can see the flames of justice burning
Through the brand’

So sing like the days mean inversion
And the nights shine bright
Until stars disappear at light.
And then
You will wait.
Just wait until your furnace burns again, wait
Until the fire licks at your mountains of angst and
Breathe.  
Just breathe.

And then you write.
Write as if tomorrow didn't exist.
As if today was your last wish
And was as sinful
And somnolent
As a flight of Ravens
Murdering Crows.

Feathers
Always
Fall
Too
Quickly.