The Monarch and the Raven
Along the salty, sandy bluff coast and rocks cradling the sea as monarch flew, a raven perched — gazing steadily at she. The Monarch, small, light and bright, the fairest of her kind. The Raven, stoic, feather's indigo ink, with eyes that pierced the blind. The Monarch fluttered, flew and danced along the green sea shore, she let the breeze lift her delicate wings, she let herself rise and soar. Up and down, to and fro with not a care in sight. She knew not how beautiful her wings, they were, she only knew sea breeze and sun light. She had vague recollection of a season now past, a season she came from the ground. She knew now she flew with wings colored anew, she knew she carried new sound. She sang of her kind, healing of the blind, she whispered secrets she was given. She knew she had purpose, knew she was worth it, knew of the creator's great vision. The Raven, upon the other hand, perched herself high on a wire. Her eyes gazed solid upon the horizon, as...