the Raven sings


*photo by Madeleine S./written by phong

I have never forgotten the whispers
that waft through the thick fog of insanity.
Chaotic rumblings of the egomaniacal
feather me into a restless submission,
of which I care not submit to.

Thus through filter and funnel,
carbon and nitrate,
I infiltrate this needless
storm of supposed proportion
to a mere waddling sprinkle.

Energetic charges of dissipating souls
appearing no less random
than the odds of lottery winning
showing before the sinning
to thin this coagulated blood of

Cobwebs and butterflies
stars and dizzying glances,
these floating specks
form into
what I missed the most.

Black feathers of blue
midnight of pure sky
illuminated by the essence
of diamond charcoal…
those eyes pierce to my being.

It calls.

He calls.

She calls.

They call…

Announcing their arrival
for they have never left
lurking soaring diving in the shadows
that illuminate the light.

The hushing of secrets to obvious existence,
they caw and curdle beckoning
acknowledgement of grandeur
no greater no less that the most Divine.

I see.
I see.
I see…

Fear soaks
through my bones
to become ash
and whisper.

Each breath wallows me closer.
Each sleep, an adventure
to a story
revealed in myth to shatter
this illusion of play.

Dancing and fluttering,
Amoebas and cells,
the universe and galaxies
that sparkle of an eye
that guides me
to me.

Heaven reveals
that Heaven is here
among the angels of Raven.

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