A black raven, my old friend,
Came to me at day’s end.
He spoke of journeys far and wide,
Of cities vast, of time and tide.
He told me tales of wonders rare,
Beyond what words could ever share,
Of sights that make the spirit soar,
And leave the heart forevermore.
We spoke of all, of naught, of more,
Of shattered shards and ancient lore.
He said, "From fragments, worlds are born,
Through fire’s forge and tempest’s storm."
I asked, "Why build a world anew,
If we are lost, if we are few?"
I asked, "Why build a world anew,
If we are lost, if we are few?"
The raven turned, his gaze held mine,
And called me forth to serve, to shine.
Though born of light, I heed the call,
To stand as shield, to never fall.
Upon my head, a helm of steel,
In hand, a sword with tempered zeal.
A bow, a quiver, arrows swift,
To lift my land, to mend the rift.
With raven’s cry, I marched to fight,
Through darkest day and endless night.
The enemy fell, the battle won,
Beneath the gaze of midnight’s sun.
The old world burned, its time had passed,
A grace-filled dawn was born at last.
I bid farewell to raven’s flight,
"Return, my friend, in darkest night."
He spread his wings, his voice did ring,
"Till next we meet, I’ll always sing."
"O raven, black, with wings so grand,
Do not fly far from my land.
Protect her, shield her from the spite,
From shadows cast by envy’s blight.
A bird of wisdom, strong and true,
The raven’s call has guided through.
With eyes that gleam, he cawed aloud,
A vow to guard, both fierce and proud." |
