I know its long but it's a story in a poem. Stories are long.
We were walking down
a midnight road,
the stars were new
but now they're old.
He took my hand
and held it close.
The skies were bleeding,
raining ghosts.
I heard a single
shrill cry call,
the kind of call
that makes you fall
and slip into
the land beyond.
The dreaming land
of mist and cloud,
the hazy land
where hell-hounds are found.
He held my hand close
and I stayed on firm ground.
No slipping or falling,
no hell-hounds around.
We watched as a raven
flew past our heads,
calling and calling,
soon its voice will be dead.
But he held my hand close
and I stayed on firm ground.
No slipping or falling,
no hell-hounds around.
And the ravens, they gathered,
white ravens, They flew
just like bright ash
in a chimney flue.
The full moon rose high,
casting its shadow,
blinking its eye,
watching the ravens,
ravens, white ravens,
watching the ravens
crying their cry.
But he held my hand close
and I stayed on firm ground,
no slipping or falling,
no hell-hounds around.
The feathers, they fell
off the tails of the birds.
The feathers, they floated
away like my words.
And the midnight shadows
danced and they fell.
Were they running away?
I couldn't tell.
But he held my hand close,
still here on firm ground,
no slipping, no falling,
no hell-hounds around.
The ravens, they dived,
the ravens they dove,
ravens, white ravens,
right past my bones.
And they went straight for him,
eyes, red as blood,
and they continued to come,
pouring in like a flood.
And he fell and he fell,
And he rose and he rose.
But the ravens kept coming,
holding their pose.
I held his hand close,
but firm ground was long gone,
he was slipping and falling,
what could I have done?
He took one last breath
and said in my ear;
"I love you,
I love you,
please do not fear."
But the ravens were circling,
the ravens were there,
the ravens, white ravens,
how could they dare?
His hand, it was slipping,
falling and falling.
The ravens were done.
They'd finished their calling.
And though he was gone,
though the night faded to grey,
his words, they still lingered,
forever they'd stay.
I watched as the sun
Rose bright and round.
I wonder if it knew
that terror had come down.
As the dawn struck me,
as the clouds danced,
and the colours sung
I knew it was forever
that he'd be gone.
But his words were still there,
still inside my ear;
"I love you, I love you,
please do not fear."
And so I live on,
for every day
as long as I continue
to let those words play.