The Monarch and the Raven
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 if begging the sea to inquire.
Ask why she was still, and not quaint and carefree, like her magical floating friend
Why did she rest, and remain in her place, while Monarch would rise and descend.
I have seen too much, the Raven she thought, I'm too careful, lest be seen
flying and floating, enjoying this life, it's not much more than a dream
I have seen the dark sides, death in the eyes, I have fought blood and skin for my food
I have defended my children from the hunt, from the talon. I have watched helpless when I've not been so shrewd.
But the Raven knew also of the great master plan, of the promise that laid out at sea.
She knew that no matter the strife of this life, there was rest at the end with the "He"
So, Raven kept staring, kept solid and still, for she knew that her time would come soon
When day's woven and spun, at the end come undone, we all fly out of our earthy cocoon.
Oh, which will we be, dancing and free, or shrewd as the ever setting sun
Time steals these days, like sand they slip away, gone before it's even begun
When we breathe our last, and this life is past, and the hereafter becomes the wherein
Which will we be, dancing free or weighing the cost of our sin.
Which will we chose, and what time will we lose if that way leads further to strife
Remind me oh sea, to dance eternally, for seasons that lead to Your life.
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