RAVEN
Raven shifted on his perch
He lifted a foot
Placed it over the other, and quickly spun around
Then dropping his head
And lifting his ass
He shat
Watching it spiral down
Before splattering unseen amidst the bramble of the forest floor
He saw much from his perch
The fray of the forest floor
The hunters and the hunted
Out each and every day
He has noticed
Each day faces change
Trees change
Even his feathers change
But the world
Remains very still
He was grateful to be up here
The high open wind
Cleansing his face
And his mind
He likes the wind in his face
And thinks, it must have meaning…
And maybe messages
Vague whisperings
Fleeting and without substance
Some of the most meaningful things
Do not have substance
Take flying - wonderful – without substance
He soars
While watching the walkers
He thinks of himself
And has no false pretensions
He certainly has substance
But is without meaning
He is simply Raven on his high perch
In the wind
Nothing more, nothing less
Absorbing the heat and light
Then slowly
Fluttering away
Gone…
He wonders who is waiting out there
For him
Or his perch
In this world
He dropped his head
Lifted his ass
And shat again
He shifted on his perch, and thought
Now that’s reality
He was alone
It seemed he had always been alone
Oh…he has visitors
But has no false pretensions
While engaging in idle banter
He is still alone
He rises each morning
Perplexed
By the beauty of the day
And the problems within
It is then he begins cackling
With himself
And launching himself
At the bramble of the forest floor
By the end of the day
He is empty
Of everything
Each morning it begins again
He lays and creates
Problems of the new day
All the while
Tearing down the solutions
Of yesterday
A non-ending process
Each day
Of tearing down and rebuilding
He has come to greatly enjoy
This comforting daily routine
He enjoys knowing he has the ability to solve great
Complex problems
He knows he has become older
But other than his feathers
And the things around him
Everything is the same
He thinks
When I came to this still world
I came with my trunk
Filled with feathers, faces, and feces
This is my stuff
For this world
Nothing more, nothing less
His stomach began to turn
And churn
He had visions of food and thought
He would go look
For leftovers
In the bramble
Of the forest floor
He spread his wings
And hopped off his perch
Allowing himself to drop towards the forest floor
Then two quick beats and he leveled off
And began to soar
His eyes searched
Until engulfed
By sound
Both white and black
He was aware of his feathers surrounding him as he fell
Motionless
Just before landing amidst the bramble of the forest floor
He shat