The Raven And The Owl:

As the bone-cutting wind came off the sea the Raven spoke thus to the Owl,

His companion for more millennia than they cared to remember:

“Art thou ready then, old friend?”  The Owl nodded slowly. “Aye, if we must?”

The Raven stared at him intently, eyes drilling down into the Owl’s deep soul.

“Don’t soften now thy resolve.  We must!  The Great Clock stops, elsewise,

And the new count begins.  Yet none are arrayed for battle, the stage is not set.”

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Again the Owl nodded. “In truth I know.  But thou art sure then that this be the one?”

“Come,” cawed his friend. “Greater than us by far are those who say it is so.

What is it that ails thee?  Never in all of time do I recall such reluctance as this!”

The Owl glanced at his talons. “Never in all of time has it been thus, that is why!

We could destroy that little which is light.  It may gutter and die ‘til the End Times.

How can they be so certain-sure it will not fare ill if we do as they bid?”

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In the momentary silence a solitary lamb could be heard bleating,

His call cutting through the thick night like a sweet-tolling bell.

Thus the Raven uttered strong, “It is written!  You hear him.  Thou art not deaf!”

Owl screeched.  “I hear him, for am I not the one who hears all things.  I hear, I see.

But how can they, in all the teeming millions, be so sure it be this one and no other?”

The Raven shrugged. “I know not, yet I know they are and we must do as bid.”

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Cloud silhouettes ripped witch-like, menacing, across the face of an ice-edged moon

As the wind conducted the trees, a tortured choir fit for the night’s dread work ahead.

With a further shrug the Raven rose effortlessly into the frosted night, in an instant

Sucked into the dark, lost to all but the Owl who followed, loath though he was,

And in moments the pair perched once more, now in an ancient oak besides a clearing

In which stood the solitary, silent lamb, a coruscating light surrounding his tiny form.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

At the clearing’s edge, caught in shards of baleful moonlight predatory eyes glinted.

The wolves held back, cowed, shamed by the lamb’s fearless innocence

But craving for his tender flesh.  The pack leader, tongue lolling, drooling enmity,

Abhorred this affront to his dignity and wanted it destroyed so that he,

And all creature-kind, need no longer suffer the unspoken guilt of their barbarity.

Owl spoke tenderly.  “Yes, they are right.  He is the one.  There can be no doubting!

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So, tell me again, thou, my old and trusted friend, tell me again why it must be so,

And tell thou to me so that I know that it is right, for it seems not thus in my heart.”

“I tell thee this and then act we must, for I am Death’s Messenger and thou art

His Silent Slayer.  It is before his time and he must make the perfect sacrifice.”

Noiselessly the two birds dropped and in an awful instant tore out the Lambs eyes,

And as his light faded the waiting wolves silently slunk in for the longed for kill.