As night draws in and silence comes, the door is locked, the curtains drawn
I am alone, the world recedes and sleeps until another dawn.
Yet in the quiet, midnight hour with feathers soft against my skin
Two ravens whisper in my ear, as Thought and Memory begin.
Within the darkness of their wings stir images, both dark and bright,
That dance within the secret heart and quiet hours of the night.
A past replayed, as on a screen, as tears and laughter, broken dreams,
And in their midst a single spark, a star of quiet beauty gleams.
Deep in its central molten core, from what has been the present grows
A seed that reaches to the sun, and borrowing its light it glows
With inner glory, burning bright, with all the mornings yet to be,
The future held within the wings of ravens, Thought and Memory.