White Raven
White Raven's eyes erased,
This there life of meaning,
Flying through him was his name by nature
Where there might be a Raven be?
Flying through him where the Raven He...
Thought mind over matter, matter over time
He only knew there is no life of meaning.
Of meaning over life.
And he so wished that he were black.
In this that so place where there were feathers.
White feathers longing to turn black.
poem by Rebecca Stansfield
Added by Poetry Lover
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