CROWS
The Seer divines
The darkness of the warp.
Through the mist
A familiar visitation:
A murder of crows.
Waiting over fields,
In trees, on streetlamps.
A fertile imagination.
A spectre of power.
A magus alone.
And somewhere between
The detail and the whole,
An ebb and flow
Of thoughts and feelings,
And formidable self control.
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