Lurking Raven

Death abides on the bloody battlefield
And in overflowing hospital wards,
Waiting for life’s flickering flame to yield
Under siege of deadly disease and swords.

Perched there, upon nearby dark windowsill,
The horrible black harbinger of death
Lingers patiently in shadow, until
Charon comes around to steal your last breath.

The soul, becoming now a passenger,
So truly quiescent that none can hear,
Rides the stalwart wings of the messenger
In a twinkling to the eternal sphere,

Leaving behind the mortal flesh and bone
To bury under mnemonic headstone.