the raven speaks

 

 

 

 *       ever more        *

___

The raven speaks from yonder tree,
of lust released and love set free.
Croaking in it’s ever voice.
It speaks of will.
It speaks of choice.
It speaks of how the lamplights sender,
knows not race and knows not gender.

Softly goes the messenger now,
circling on it’s ever vow,
to speak to those who tread forever,
where angels walked,
not now…

 nor ever.

For loves true fountain cannot fail,

there is no path, or way impaled,
upon that once forgotten shrine,

where spirit dwells, and ever shines.

The place within, that ever presence,
born of kings, and born of peasants.
Where gender knows not flesh, nor morals.
The sender – life – from dead sea corrals.
The raven speaks, and I yet listen,
in that light, may spirit glisten,
through her fair forever forest,
where true heart roams,
forever lawless.

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