Raven Whyte
Raven wings of purest white,
Serving Lord of Dream.
Tainted black with darkest Night,
Harsh though it may seem.
Disobedience is paid in kind
To those who walk without the day
"Shadows on my funeral mind"
A friend you love may say.
You took your chance and paid for Love,
Inky blackness now through Tyme.
Feathers from which were modeled doves
Now sit, exist in Mind.