In the stillness of the night, beneath the pale moon’s gaze,
Ravens chant their ancient tales, in a symphony of haze.
Their wings cut through the silent air, a dance of shadows near,
Whispering secrets of the dark, to those who dare to hear.

Among the twisted branches, their eyes like embers glow,
Guardians of the mysteries, of realms we may not know.
They call to the forgotten souls, with voices deep and low,
Unraveling the threads of time, with every croak and crow.

Beneath the starlit canopy, their presence stirs the night,
Echoes of a thousand dreams, lost just out of sight.
They weave the fabric of the dusk, with feathers black as coal,
Ravens, keepers of the dusk, and watchers of the soul.

So listen to the ravens’ song, as moonlight bathes the earth,
For in their haunting melody, lies wisdom of great worth.
They speak of life and death entwined, of mysteries yet to find,
In the whispers of the ravens, the secrets of the mind.