Her hair as black as night, her clothes as white as the sun. On her shoulders, ravens that cried out to her in warning, called out to her in love. Friends that would never betray her, never forget her, never leave her alone.
Through the long meadow grass she walks, her hands brushing against the tips. Behind her the almost setting sun.
And me, always in her shadow, as I try to catch up, try to say I was sorry, try to convince her to turn, to stop, to take me back into her arms.
But only the ravens turn towards me. They cry out their judgement, and I am left, alone.
1. Written on September 27th, 2017__________patreon. Subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real. Thank you.