crow

the crow's mocking voice
born to the cold wind
calls me
calls me silent

my hands are silent
my feet are silent
my heart is silent

lost is the quellas

my lungs shall not
shall not feast
they shall eat
the ash and smoke

my eyes shall not
shall not drink
they shall thirst
for the light's return

lost is the quellas

upon my knees
my knees of scars
i walk

in the pain of me
the pain of i am
i walk

to harvest
no
to rest
no

to love
no
to home
no

all kin have left
for what i am
all friend have left
for what i am

i am he who
will never age

i am he who
will always die

1 comment:

Stuart said...

Ominous.