They say you stole the sun.
This is inexact.
You hid the light in darkness
where the light-killers could not find it
so the sun could shine brighter than before.
They say you are black
because you are evil and unkind.
They do not say you swallowed
your own shadow and mastered it
at the price of wearing its colors.
Shivering, they call you death-knell,
Death-eater, bad omen, flying banshee
because you feed on death that feeds on men.
You strip what rots from what remains.
You give us the purity of the bones.
Trickster, they call you.
Oh yes, you’ll do your wickedest
to ensure our way is never routine
and we are forced to improvise and transform.
You won’t let us swap our souls for a plan.
At least they don’t accuse you of minor crimes.
I praise and claim your gifts
of putting on darkness to come and go safely
in the darkest places, jesting with Death.
— Robert Moss‘ poem “Sun Stealer” on his blog “Dream Gates” in the blog post “Raven Eye” (beliefnet, September 21, 2010); written “…for Raven at the end of a marvelous adventure in group dreaming, when many of us were able to see true with the help of that raven eye.” Earlier revision available as “RAVEN EYE: Sun Stealer” (The Robert Moss BLOG, January 2, 2009 1:58am); note earlier rendering of final line as “joking with Death.”