raven soul

no one ever made it to their soul alive…

so let the tired bird fall from the sky, let the old castle crumble, be somewhere else upon the briar- tear your tendon from the bone. It doesn’t matter what I say, what I write drifts down to earth sheer and so, unseen -and all of my words touch the bottom of you and then they emerge from the deepest place you are- even if you don’t remember me I find the lost letters and I write the last book. Thrown to the ground from the femme fatale of crooked things- are the little fears and consequences -she who shakes rattles from wrath and breaks open old bottles also brings the two ends to meet. And so the cloudy remains that let the day hang barely seen by the dreamers and the homeless, become the next sleepless night under blankets in a room never warmed by the morning…

I didn’t plan on an execution, things happen, we lose our head, it’s the aftermath that is feared the most…because when the story resumes, we start looking again and she’s on our heels loudly with warning sounds of harnessed thunder. Don’t get in the way of yourself…it’s dangerous, little things bite.

I was hearing all these voices as I walked through a graveyard in the backwoods of North Carolina. It was old and gray and the grass wasn’t tended. There were tall stooping gnarly trees and in the tree closest to me sat a large shiny raven. “What is your name?” The raven asked. “I don’t know, I’m just here accidentally…looking around.” “It’s no accident.”said the raven “I’ll bet you’re tired of dying.” “I am” I said as I looked the raven in the eyes, gleaming golden reflecting eyes. “Where is your nest?” I asked “I don’t have one…I’m not really even here” the raven said…

I am confused by my malady as I stare into the raven’s hypnotic eyes…

and I’m there- and the walls wear thin and the floor boards creak as the embodied memory walks slowly down the hall towards me. These ghosts never leave, they just haunt the cobweb closets and cold crevices, they groan from the damp cellar, they cover ancient birds with sordid desires and they never set us free from the weighted branches we cling to. “I thought we came to make amends?” I asked the raven as she opened her violet black wings. “There is no such thing” the raven said,
“Only callouses and cheap red wine” and the shimmering invisible bird flew away over the graveyard and into the gray distant clouds.

All alone I matter most to me…

crawling to my shelter somewhere deep inside, the place forgotten- and so where home resides is in smoke as it rises, not in the earth. And I wondered how I even found the ground I feed, a body without any wings and a face without forgiveness. I see their names but I never knew them. “From here to there” it says as if the count is on. The torture wells inside my stomach like waves about to break and the little steam worms wiggle and the leaves rot on the vine. I never meant to be a number inside a box. I never meant to shut out the sky. I never meant to see this place filled with birds upside down as the rotting forgotten, flipped from here to there as if someone’s in charge. “Why don’t you know me?” I whispered to the lost raven as I opened my talons and dug into flesh as wood. “Why don’t you know me?” a voice whispered back.

I am alone and enchanted by my own seduction. Dig deep into me, claws down the spine. The sound of silence all around. It’s too late to expect anything more. Do you know that the femme fatale of crooked things give every storm a name? I can feel a storm brewing from the cracks in my veins, from the chasm of breath upon fire. “They’re all dead anyway so it doesn’t matter” I thought as I vexed my shallow condition east to where things always begin…and I remembered how the bright diamond sparkled in your eyes before every great encounter…

a storm is born without a name and for the first time I am breathless. Filled with lightening and premonition, I am a bottomless omen without feet or hands to keep me. I feel the rain falling lightly upon the haunted and I just know she will wash it all away. For inside every crumbling castle is a crippled bird, and like me, we hear you calling. “Up here, come back, don’t let me disappear”

The dreamers and the homeless casting wet and heavy shadows into one another… until underneath me are pools filled with murky and magnetic waters…pulling me to humming graveyards and crooked chainlink fences and i wander and i wonder who died….

“i’m looking for you.” i’m looking for you..” “i’m looking for you…”

don’t forget me little one who never found the water. I am behind you like a storm long forgotten. I am ahead of you as falling tears for your lost raven soul…

who weeps without a sound and haunts us all with every breath…who churns the night sea and spills the last drop…who always comes when you thought she forgot you…

hail the bird who brings the last storm home…raven soul,
Sharada Devi

19 thoughts on “raven soul”

  1. YES congrates you did it again !!!
    Wounderfully expressed & well put together it gives a mystic feeling or smell the song was a great match it seemed like part 2 to your story.
    I used to know a family of crows or black birds (I don’t know the diffrance ) who were my friends but they moved away.Your story made me think of them.For reasons I can not explain crows or black birds make me think of Elijah the Prophet ( I am guessing you have read that story if you have not my thought is you would like it 1 kings chapters 17-19

    AUM peace be with you AUM

          1. It’s funny. Like masturbarion jabs
            Maybe it tickles my ego
            But what really moves me is giving More or maybe nothing
            And I’m down here
            :)) 9

          2. all the way to 0….ego bending like the way they bend spoons with their mind…powerful magical places inside -every time 9 until then…creation.🌚new moon void.

          3. hahaha
            no – not the band having an influence on you.
            I was thinking that you might have influenced them
            What with your long time practice with Yantra’s and all…
            😊

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