Literature
The Raven and the Sun
I walk the scorched earth
watching as the raven steals the sun
Night unfurls like a sentient mist, curling around my ankles, awakening nocturnal beasts in its wake. My feet, blistered to the bone, are welcoming the cold wave of her wings - an obsidian veil closing the earth’s eyes on all light. My cracked pupils thirsts for the hunter’s moon, soothing all pain, eating through the fabric of the sky, picking stars to mute; they die, fast and mercifully, as the universe weeps.
I walk the dying world
watching as the raven bleeds the sun
Warmth dissolves beneath untouched snow, melting on my shattered skin, soothing the blaze of my wounds. I welcome the creatures of eternal winter - made of shadows and fog, they lick my eyes to restore my sight; they brush my limbs with feathers and fur to rekindle my flesh. Wings sprout from my spine. My eyes see again. My form shapeshifts, bones relocate, sculpting a forgotten god.
I walk the frozen earth
with the raven by my side
The hungry soil