Ravens Mouth, Crying Chains

They say when the ravens leave the courtyard, the kingdom will fall.
I watch one now, eye to eye. His feathers look black at first, but in the sun they seem different, a shimmer of blue perhaps, as if he hides the truth before the gods. How can he stare at me for hours, while my eyes are forced open until tears flow down my cheeks and wet my clothes.
Black in black, dressed for mourning, here, now, tomorrow, and for all times. He attends an endless funeral, with no reason yet to leave the banquet.
I cannot leave him or his kin, as they don’t leave the courtyard. Bound to their magic spell, a poisonous blend of beauty and graveyard dust, their eyes forever judging my deeds and thoughts.
My eyes can now see what the ravens see; the truth made them wise and blind at the same time, and in their agony, they decided that they no longer believe in the mercy of colors and turn black.
When the kingdom falls, it will fall not quietly, but with the devastating heartbeat of a dying moon. Fish may travel the sky, and gray snow will cover birds' corpses.
I don’t care if the ravens leave or not.
Black sees black, one is mute, the other has a voice.
A monstrous beauty with a mouth that forever screams:

Chains.
Chains.
Bound by chains, you cannot even cry for your own death.

Original photo by Ashmore.
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