The Raven and The Light

 

The bird that flys in the night,

you shall call him crow.

I may call him winged king.

The name beats in my heart.

The illusive chained soul,

lacks a mouth for to speak.

Yet I am not the queen of doves,

and still the night does quake.

 

From yonder comes an angel.

Not bird but beast it comes

with neither warmth nor grace.

Only screaming all around.

Then comes his burdened majesty

with tears of solid gold.

He comes with vibrant love

to place happiness in my chest.

So that I may once again

Escape the angel of darkness.