The Raven Poem by Daryl Kang

With it's lustrous laminated feather,
with it's mighty silver- black wings,
With it's weathered and chipped beak,
The crow perched high in his throne of twigs.

Loneliness. Insanity. and ambiguity.
The crow set out to find his kind.
a raven perch nearby.
Both birds thus looked the same.

He flew towards the mighty hunter,
and perched beside him.
His caws were not understood.
never will it be.

although the crow was not a raven
and raven not a crow.
It knows it's the master of it's fate.
The captain of it's soul.