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I dreamt.

I was a raven
perched high on a hill of stone
the sun upon me.

At great height and loss
for peace and sweet memory..
and guilt below me.

The ghosts that dance there
know my name and bear no face.
Loss, ever mounting.

Great nothings, no ones
hidden away like old keys.
Still, they haunt me.














Then.
...


The sun was a door
set out on the horizon
far beyond my reach.

Unfledged.

In want nor needing
for sunning and reminding,
I woke.

Longing for an end, 
no matter how bright or bleak
no sun upon me.

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