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Clay we begin,

Shaped by unrelenting time,

Stone be our end in the deadest of fields- where reptiles slither alone in kind,

The wind… from black wings… carries me

Within the shadow,

Like birth under soil,

Buried unclean as offering,

Bathed in shadow,

Down in a hole,

Her carrion song is calling… me,

Obsidian eyes,

Black is the tide,

Of the countenance that’s haunting me,

I call your name…. into these deadest of fields… into these dry riverbeds… into the hole in which I weep,

Who be thee that raps upon my locked chamber door?

It be you, the one for whom this all is for,

Raven,

Raven,

Raven,

Feed on my soul carrion love… Raven

I call your name…. into these deadest of fields… into these dry riverbeds… into the hole in which I weep,

Treading stone- the red letter burned in my hide,

Casting shadows of unrest from way on high,

I hear the song- her hunger is great,

She circles above in the fellest of waits,

I walk on further- old death at my side,

I search ever deeper for my oasis tide,

My bones are sore and I grow ever weary,

Soon the Raven will be fed and I feel the moment nearing…

Raven.