Betwixt the dark and daylight hours

the raven calls me from my sleep.

His cry a sharp, demanding caw

to raise me from slumber deep.

 

What is it he is wanting now

that draws him to my windowpane?

Is he a harbinger of doom

that brings him here from his domain?

 

“Oh, you the coal black messenger

of prophecy and sudden change,

pray tell me what you’ve come to say –

what omen bring you – dire or sage?”

 

I feel a quickening in my flesh –

what is this sense that I’ve naught known?

“‘Ere I be driven from my mind,

oh, spirit bird, I must be shown.”

 

The black beast cocks his head aside

and in a tone both sharp and clear,

his dispatch issues so arcane,

“You’re called to now become a seer.”

 

“A seer?”  say I, “That cannot be

I have no mystic gifts to share.”

And yet, within my telltale heart

I know ‘tis now my cross to bear.

 

I ask, “How can I trust myself

to guide another on their way?”

The Raven looks me in the eye,

“You’ll always know the words to say.”

 

With that he turns and takes his leave,

his shape a specter as he soars.

I hear his final fervent call,

“And you shall see me nevermore.”

 

Photo credit: Mel-Poole-@melipoole- sourced from Unsplash