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The Raven's Feather

I stand by a tree,
the sky is grey,
and all I can see,
is a feather gone stray.

A feather as black as night,
floats gently through light,
through the fissures of life,
cutting through me like a scythe.

Looking down at me is a raven,
like the expanse of the heavens, no craven,
his eyes as deep as the abyss,
making me wonder if I even exist.

The feather drops like black water,
to the earth, turning it to fodder.
It haunts me, never leaving,
eternally eroding and deceiving.

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