Raven

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I wrote in a previous post about having a ‘Before Sunrise’ moment. The poem that follows was an indirect result of that time. A good friend to the girl I fell for sent this to me as I was trying to piece together the sudden severing of all ties. I kept wanting to read something more into these words, finally settling on accepting it as a requiem to that time in my life. Again, they are not my words. The only credit I can give is to Katyz. Wherever you are, thank you for the beautiful ending.


From Ilium to Mycenae
the raven flies,
straight
as a bronze-edged arrow;
and then to the place of
man-eating bulls:
the palace of ashes.
Soft as his feathered wing,
hard as falling water,
his eye encompasses all that
his thoughts feel,
in a purple haze of smoke that
drifts to the ceiling of the world,
from the fires that burn
the bones of warriors,
sending them to the Elysian Fields;
to fight immortality for
the only cause worth
dying for.

-Katyz