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The Trust of the Raven

If I sit beneath the Ravens,

will they trick me?

Dropping branches from above,

they taunt me.

Tell me this is their forest;

they are the ones who watch over.

They ask me, who am I

to step foot beneath their trees;

red topped stranger in their midst.

In the mist they are hard to see

but their language is clear.

I am but a pretender of the forest.

Here and then gone;

a visitor.

The Ravens dare me to change.

Seeing the truth of my potential

and the darkness of what I’ve become.

A sunken darkness,

different than their blackest feathers

which are shining,

haunting, alive.

A darkness of shame

born from destructive fear

that continues to grow.

Who am I to come beneath their canopy?

As if I appreciate all that it is.

As if I truly care.

I am the one who did not see.

And so I left.

And they stayed.

To them it is simple, obvious.

True wisdom does not need to seek

non-existent secrets.

The Raven knows where it belongs.

Raven knows he is whole.

And so he stays

and watches.

And now I return.

He taunts me for my fear.

Scolds me for questioning

what is and will always be.

Transform, he tells me.

Back to my past glory.

We used to be friends

but then I left.

I must work to earn back his trust.


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