Birds, they come to my porch to talk
Except for these crows that visit me on my window in floks.

With each cycle's end the black birds come to me again 
I learned to speak with crows many lives ago
We have a pact that makes them reveal to me what they know

Knowledge is a fortune
Curiousity is a heavy burden 
When the cycle ends , i close my window's curtains

Restless days , restless nights
Restless thoughts inside this restless mind

My will is conscious  , my allies are aligned 
Death is still , waiting silently by my side 

I am ready to accept what is mine. ( Do i have a choice?)

Words Of Harfouchism