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Ghosts of Crows

Tim Cantor, 2019

Roughened are the waters that seek my cherished skies

Each sky, each tide, each plea to be alive

Wishes feed my moments, my hungers to survive

Strive, strive, til death I am alive

Balanced in the air, midlife cloaks my limbs

My past, my fate, my inner rage within

Hopes have passed and been, yet hope still wraps my skin

Like limbo as my veil, I soar here in between

The waves, the swells, the deep green cold citrine

The gold, the clouds, more eager is my dream

The sea, the green, it temptly closes in - fear flecks the other side

Blinded by my likeness, I mock this mortal dive

Vanquished by my thirst, my thirst for fate defied

The stars I have foreseen, old age in passioned stride

I soar here in between, ambition soaks my hide

Each sky, each tide, my hungers to survive

Strive, strive, til death I am alive

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