dreamy scarab
One for sorrow, cloaked in night,
Its wings eclipse the waning light.
Two for tears that never dry,
They fall like ash from a weeping sky.
Three for a vow the grave will keep,
Whispered low where shadows sleep.
Four for a birth beneath the veil,
A life begun where others pale.
Five for silver, sharp and cold,
Coins to pay the tales untold.
Six for gold, a liar’s tongue,
A promise dead before it’s sung.
Seven for secrets sealed in bone,
A truth the Raven calls his own.
Eight for a wish that burned to dust,
For dreams devoured by time and rust.
Nine for a kiss that never came,
A soul that trembled, spoke your name.
Ten for the bird that marks your doom,
He circles slow above your tomb.
Eleven for hope, thin as smoke,
It rises, fades, and never spoke.
Twelve for health, a fleeting breath,
It dances close with ghostly death.
Thirteen ah, beware the call,
The Raven’s cry will curse us all.
For when he lands, the world grows still
And sorrow bends to the Raven’s will.
forest relic
copper vigil