A crow looked at me
in his eyes I could see
all the wonders of the galaxy.
Reflections of stars,
the earth's weeping scars,
unraveling minds and their memoirs.
Under sacred moonlight,
held in black claws of night,
our deepest desires are clutched tight.
O Crow! What spirit do you hold?
With whose voice do you scold?
Does it still slumber in your pile of gold?
The Old Ones knew you,
and now I will too,
when I die and rise on black wings anew.