Shake no Spears

I am Crow:

Blood eater,

Sinshitter,

Sleepstealer;

Shake no puny spears

In my direction, for

Your mountains of death

Are no barrier

To my progresses …

and next time you

Come across my silhouette,

Hear my lid-of-coffin voice –

In sunlight or darkness,

In hours of labour,

Love, thought or rest–

Take heed;

It is no accident

That you are sometimes

Brushed by my feather-light shadow:

Think on, mortal,

Of the things you must

And the things you mustn’t.