~~A crow sits on a gray church spire,
Still, silent and wise.
The breeze of Autumn breathes its last.
The crow shudders and lifts his head
To the glimmering stars,and cries:
"Throughout my life, my fate has been
To watch and feast on death,
To witness, every day, the loss
Of lovers, brothers, sisters, friends
And all with living breath.
"Day in, I watch them live and love.
Day out, I watch them die.
Day in, I hear their hopes and dreams.
Day out, I see them come to naught
As in the ground they lie.
"And so, cruel stars, I have no wish
To further play this part -
To be the spectator of death
And the futility of life.
It darkens and pains my heart."
And thus rejecting his natural place
In the realm of the pitiless tomb,
He spreads his black, skeletal wings,
Takes to the cold December skies,
And leaves his lifeless home -
But, in the skies, to his surprise,
Discovers new delights:
The sense of freedom as he flies;
The faint warmth on his feathered back;
The early morning light -
And thus, flying high above
The pain of human strife,
Forgets the universality
Of expiration, and instead
Takes joy in finite life.