Underneath the starlit skies, where shadows silently creep,
Ravens spread their ebony wings, in the stillness of night they leap.
Their eyes gleam with ancient tales, secrets they silently keep,
Guardians of the twilight, in the moonâs pale light, they steep.
Perched upon the ancient oak, they watch the world below,
Through the mist and morning dew, in the dawnâs faint glow.
With a caw that breaks the silence, a sound so deep and low,
They weave the threads of mystery, where mortal thoughts canât go.
In their flight, the winds do whisper, stories of old and new,
Of kingdoms lost, and love forlorn, in the skies so vast and blue.
Their feathers, black as midnight, carry the nightâs soft dew,
A symbol of the unknown, where the heartâs true quest ensues.
O, ravens of the midnight hour, what secrets do you bear?
In the silent, shadowed night, your presence fills the air.
With a gaze that pierces through, a wisdom rare and fair,
You remind us of the mysteries, in the world we all must share.