The Crow Chief

The Crow Chief Sit a while to bask in the ambiance of a moment of song We marked are papers with what went wrong Can't we all see and just get along Silence beckons the plough yet asunder Is it any wonder we have to much time on our hands The crow chief emmerges from the brisk of the day A step forward to bow the knee to pray He looks in hindsight at the ever glass nestled around his chest Longing for a real world in need of it's untimely rest He dances in a ring of fire yet throws off the challenge with a shrug Out of hallow circumstance to take part in the dance Mark the man willing to explore hence the opened door lest I implore Shapes forms out of the sky the following of a distant passerby He plants a seed of kindness t the heavenly god of grace Slowly he is warned of his intrusion into the outer space In time his seed grows to it's modest fruition delivered above To summon the outside of nature's beckoning call Then to heed a promise once spoken in the dark now brought to light We make plans then break plans will it end it all depends A beacon of hope to a world that can't cope They bask in the debris of being social wandering wizard's Shelter lies dormant amdst it's beckoning plough A challenge to be set free is just a question of time The crow chief lives to wait until the end of the line