Poem 05 : A Murder Of Crows

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A Murder Of Crows, for eons a chanted tale

yet its significance has not festered stale;

despite many manipulations it has faced

ineffaceable remains truth even if untraced;

abound were the fluttering clouds overhead

enshrouding the land and beings devolved;

a gale so fierce: a flight of messengers dear

the omens heralding the cascade of tears;

for our mother nature was wounded raved

having been plundered by souls depraved;

for they'd forsaken their spirits and hearts

engulfed by greed they tore the wild apart;

looted all the treasures, the silvers and gold

hoarded a high pile of their collects behold;

spilt the blood of many who dare opposed

slight discord and their lives were disposed;

friends became fiends ferociously vicious

callous, malicious with their reign atrocious;

though anguished symbols they overlooked

amidst abandon they iced in fear: spooked;

unwilling to see their monstrosity, in disdain

omens heralding nature's pain were slain;

omens of death in folk lores they became

yet the death of none but their own came;

as is a traditional custom of those who rose

beyond ignorance 'n prejudices supposed;

as is a fate of those rare beings quite wise

in the hands of fools' mouldering edifice;

so beware Nature! Beware, oh glorious wild

iniquitous have become your human child.

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A Murder Of Crows = A Group Of Crows

(But one can't help but weave a few tales ;-)

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