like a dying raven
the night has come
no signs of recovery
and her wings are broken
limping shadows cast upon
the once i considered
my greatest wisdom
murky thinking, i feel
has now began.

Blurry are the things
that have once been clear
to me, under the sun
and now, the night has come

when would you tell me
the truth? now that
this satin of darkness
has become my entire cloth
would you tell me the truth?
about life?
about why am i alive?
have i been living just to see
the perfect imbalance
of things, that would prepare me
to live in bliss?