Aloft, from highest cliffs o’er icy seas,
upon great wings of arrogance and pride,
the raven whispers soft, on ocean’s breeze,
notes cloaked with charm to lure his future bride.
In midst of kith, to sate his lust, he vies
to reign supreme, and bathes in self-adore.
Magnificence against cool ashen skies,
yet ‘neath the husk, so rotten to the core.
As shallow suns recede and rise anew
day after day, still beats his heart alone.
One frigid night the moonlight's silver hue
imparts the word his reveries have flown…
and so upon this night is hatched a plan,
to seek his bride he takes the form of man.
**based on Inuit legend**