One night I found the Seller of Ravens.
Hands tied with exposed wires.
Skull is full of the fireflies.
Enough not to believe in safe havens.
One day I met the Seller of Crows.
We're lying, covered by smoke.
What aid should we invoke?
Our blood flows mixed and froze.
Then I became the Seller of Jackdaws.
Blank stare from under the hood.
Crippled voice, which they understood,
Glossy feathered sly outlaws.
15.12.22
