To a Raven

Fearless Raven, soaring in the rich, dark chasm— that world of shadows, echoes, cliffs and crags chaotic, the void of subtle stirrings in a quintessential midnight— Make some room for me on your old, straight wings. I, too, need to sense lightning piercing stardust, galvanizing mountains, stoking distant thunder. Let me catch a breath of your pure, primeval air, exotic and unshackling latent, raw, unbounded.