Ravens and Shadows.

Silence breaks from atop the ancient Oak I discern his small waiting shadow Where others glimpse only spired branches Tossing against the cerulean skyline Sharp eyes of obsidian depths Follow my intent of movement Talon perched within the canopy Simply waiting for me to move The raven beseeches my name His call weighing ever heavier A solitary patron of the impending I am he and he exists within me Lending flight upon black razored wings I exist in the purest of freedoms For that which only he confers Never passing judgment on my passions Or reproachful of my actions Silence breaks from atop the ancient Oak A silhouette that is the absence within…