the song of the crow

the song of the crow

standing naked on the stage waiting for the dance to start
dangling ashamed exposed an audience caught in rapture
was there any time or age when the watchers had a heart
a minor horror now imposed for an imagination to capture
take a breath focus the lips into the consonants and vowels
deep inside the voice is still the simple song is unreleased
yet again the courage slips fear strikes deep in the bowels
seek harder to discover the will a pool of sweat increased
gathering the airs into a breath then expand the diaphragm
to release the words of love amidst the syllables of devotion
a promise of faith unto the death from the heart’s diagram
whether the eagle or the dove which depicts a true emotion
out comes the song of the crow not the pleading nightingale
despite all pretense a reality show where all weep and wail