The RavenThe raven floats in the skyThe clouds swirling aliveTheres not much elseBut his ink like complexionA contrast to the light hearted backdropUpon which he fliesA shadow on the cloudsAn ink drop upon the pageHe is the masterHe is the SageA little body containingA fast beating heartWith deep charcoal eyesHe stares down at the worldThinking and wonderingWhere next should I landZigging and zaggingThere isnt much elseBut his inky complexion upon a white sky.
Secrets of the deepOnce there was a young boy around the adventurous age of 15. He was tall, and skinny, with mischievous brown eyes that sparkled with untamed humor and wonder. Dark unruly hair framed his face partnered by sun kissed skin from many days scouring the beaches for shells. He lived in a little fishing village by the sea. He was always told never to swim in the sea though, only in the streams that leaked into the seas depths. His parents told him the sea was an evil place. Yet the boy never could see it that way. He always thought the sea was a beautiful thing. A mixture of mystery. Such a beautiful thing. The surface a clashing of white froth, dark blues, and greens, spotted by craggy rocks leading to the beach in the distance and the dock. When his fathers ship was at port he was allowed to roam freely on it as long as he was home before dark. Today he would travel to the dock to see his father. While his father worked he was told tales of great adventures. One could never be too old