I felt the raven’s eyes on me,

staring,

burning a hole

in my soul,

in my heart.

 

There’s a void that can’t be filled,

by mere words.

When do we let go?

How do we move on?

 

If death is the next great adventure,

the last of them.

Why do I dread it so?

 

And if life is full of opportunity,

why do I carry so many regrets,

that hang like an albatross round my neck?

 

When my life is over,

I hope my dark thoughts

will fade to nothing.

 

And that I can see a light

so bright

it burns my eyes.

 

And then I’ll be just like the raven,

staring,

no, glaring,

into an unknown,

frightening,

future.

 

But, unlike the raven,

I’ll keep looking over my shoulder,

hoping,

no, wishing,

for another chance at the past.