The Crow’s Call
The crow’s call is a stark reminder of life’s fleeting nature
Where withered trees claw the sky and dusk devours the sun
A dark-winged harbinger perched atop a crumbling sepulture
His song a dirge for hope undone
In the abyss where shadows stretch, a truth becomes clear
Each heartbeat, a fragile bell tolling against oblivion’s ear
Rattling the cages of ancient regrets
A hush falling over fields where memory forgets
Grasp each moment fiercely, live without fear
Says the black prophet, his eyes twin shards of storm
For beneath the bleak expanse of midnight’s cruel grip
The pulse of desire, of dread, is born
He circles above the mausoleum, gloating at decay
The crow’s caw echoes, a portent of life’s slip
A poem inked in shadow, a vow that cannot stay
The still air thrums with the knowledge that all things fray
Time’s fragile thread unwinds with each passing scream
Cobwebs shimmering across headstones, nerves frayed raw
Seize the fleeting hours, chase your wildest dream
Let the wind taste your grief, let your bones defy the law
Every fleeting heartbeat writes its secret on the wall
And the crow’s call rings, urging you to face
The yawning dark that hungers for us all
To let go of mercy, to let madness take its place
Each fleeting heartbeat with intense resolve
What Poe saw, gazing at Lenore
Or the unquiet wraith at midnight’s threshold
Or the craven lover howling, “Nevermore”
In impermanence, find the strength to evolve
As shadows dance in the dim light’s embrace
Each fluttering wing a strophe, a memory to dissolve
A dirge for the living, a hymn for the grace
Embrace the darkened hours with fervent light
Let the silence infect the marrow
Let sorrow feather the nest where terror bites
And love grows hallowed and narrow
The crow’s call is a stark reminder of life’s fleeting nature
Each echo a splinter in the soul’s frail bone
A herald of endings, a scribe of dark scripture
Ever circling, unrepentant, alone
And yet–amidst the ruin, the ceaseless drone
Let us take what beauty agony lends
Let us carve our names on the stone
For even as midnight descends
The crow’s call threads through eternity’s mire
Croaking defiance above all things dire
A summons to rage, to ache, to aspire
To burn in the shadows, and never expire