raven handel Once there was a grumpy raven. He saw beauty in all around him, but did not see it in his own life, and with a heart as black as his beak he envied others for this. Coming across a little boy playing in a field, he said to him: "You're so lucky. You are as free as the air. You spend your days playing in a field and want nothing more from life. You have the fire of youth in your eyes and in your soul." But the child did not understand him, for such innocence cannot speak in the bitter language of ravens. The boy laughed to the angels and danced with his shadow, heedless of the stormy bird, who flew off in a cloud of self-loathing. The child began walking home. His parents were very sick, so on the way he stopped at a doctor's to get medicine for them. "Now boy," said the doctor, "don't you worry about your parents. In a few weeks they'll be right as rain." The doctor ruffled the boy's hair and smiled, but he saw that the doctor had tired, sad eyes, and he knew the truth, that his parents were dying. He came home and his mother hugged him softly, because she was very frail. They pretended nothing was different, but the boy felt like everything had been gently wrapped up, as if his family and his feelings were precious vases to be kept safe. He wrote poetry for his mother, and she tried not to cry as she read it. He only wrote happy and silly things for her, but still they made her want to cry. His father smoked a pipe in the lounge, and they played chess together. The raven looked in at the window, and was angry at himself for mis-judging the child. He had thought the boy had no responsibilities or duties, and now he saw that the child was duteous to his parents, and responsible for their care. He became even more envious of this divine child, and he did not like being wrong, so he plotted his revenge. The next day, as the boy left the doctor's, a murder of crows, under the instruction of the raven, struck down upon him, pecking at his hands to make him drop the medicine and chasing him away. The child ran back to the bright field, dropped to the ground, held his bleeding hands to his face, and cried. But he did not cry for long, because he had to go back to the doctor's, and get home. The doctor carefully cleaned his hands for him, and walked him home. At first the raven was thunderous with rage: not only had the boy fulfilled his duty, but he hated that the doctor had done a kind deed too, for the raven desired all the world to be as heartless as he. However, he could not forget the event for some time, and when the child's parents died shortly later, the raven was scorched with crimson shame. For the first time, he went to speak with the nightingale, and bade her sing for the boy. "Why should I sing at your bidding?" she demanded. "Often you have destroyed my home, scared my young, and stolen my food." He begged her forgiveness, and began his own song, a jarring, awkward tune in which he sang of this angelic boy and of his own cruelty. The nightingale was accustomed to melody and harmony, and at first she shut her ears to his cawing, but the raven sang from his soul, and secretly she was fond of the child, and so without a word she flew to the house of the boy. He was at home alone, sitting on his bed and staring at his scarred hands. Suddenly a beautiful song began outside his window, and he smiled, for he always loved to hear the nightingale sing, and he always felt like she sang for him alone when he was upset. Meanwhile the raven was parleying with a white rosebush, pleading for her fairest flower. Never before had he humbled himself in such a way, but he did not feel sickly, as he had always thought that such a disgraceful act would make him feel. Instead, he felt that it was right to make a sacrifice of his honour, to try to cheer this boy; he felt light and bright, and he flew with a new vitality. He came to the house of the boy, dropped the rose gently on the doorstep, and rapped on the door with his beak. The boy opened the door, and beheld the purest, most delicate white rose he had ever seen. Again, he smiled, and this time tears came to his eyes. It seemed today the world was keen to remind him of its beauty. He thought he would go to the run among the trees, so he put the rose in a slender, clear vase, and left for the park. The raven watched from above, and in a reverie felt the comfort of the Sun shining upon him. He noticed his black feathers had turned a soft, snowy white. Overflowing with inner calmness, he laughed joyously, and disappeared in a cloud of flames. 040617 ... u24 :) 040618 ... cocoon beautiful 040618 ... skinny it's amazing what people will think is dark and ominous in their heads. people see an old church with cobwebs or a black bird near dark clouds and it reminds them of something mysterious or 'dark'. when little kids write a poem or draw a picture about something such as they'll draw a coffin in a graveyard with overcast skies. i smell like balls 040618 ... karasu Coronis and Ischys and the wrath of Apollo 040618 ... raze i always wanted to know a girl who had this name. i don't know why. i guess i thought a girl named raven would have to be an interesting person to know. dark-eyed and mysterious. reader, thinker, wanderer, wonderer, emotional deep sea diver. now i know of a raven who lives in this city, but there's a y before her v, and i feel like that robs the name of some of its raw power. maybe if i knew her the y would fade away. maybe if i knew you your name would change. maybe if you knew me mine would stay the same. 140520 ... epitome of incomprehensibility (I saw one at the cottage. It was pretending to be a turkey vulture, but its wings were too straight.) 140521 ... raze i asked the raven with a y to sing on something. she sings. she seemed interested. so we'll see. 140608 what's it to you? who go blather from