The Love Song of a Lost Raven

IMG_20200723_163311258.jpg

And then I went
All on my own
Knowing for sure now
That nothing is carved in stone.

Nothing lasts,
Everything ends.
Sanity largely hinges
On the color of one’s lens.

Nothing seems as it should
Nothing happened as expected.
Though the choices were foreshadowed early,
And demand to be respected.

April is cruel,
But July’s no picnic either:
Endings, beginnings, and birthdays,
The wheat’s waiting for the reaper.

The heavens draw darker
As the sun into the west descends.
The future grows shorter
As my hair greys and thins.

Follow Helios’ chariot
To the valley where ravens have flown,
Dim and dusky dirt roads
I must forever walk alone.

7-23-2020

This poem was inspired by Kristiana Reed‘s Instagram poetry prompt to write something inspired by TS Eliot’s ‘The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock’