A soften scream of an owl pierce the cold dead air, her wings are carrying her high and her coal-black eyes; searching the scattered snow below.
Silently she dances in the dark; as her beautiful wings carry her inches away, from the partly frozen ground.
As she dances among the chilly air, the moon watches in delight! as the owl continues to dance in Death's night.
"My dear Owl; do not your wings grow weary nor stale?"
She flapped her mighty wings, soaring up.
"May you be grieved in not having wings?, Nor are you jealous of what I been blessed by?"
Quietly the moon shades itself, not in pity but a wondering mind!
"You're light may guide the eyes of the wanderers; but not mine!"
"Immortality calls for loneliness, I rather crumble and putrescine!"
Her wings flap quietly as she twist and turns.
Her snow white feathers seem to glitter in the broken light of the moon, she once more flap and twist up.
Spreading out her majestic wings, she cries once more!
Her coal-black eyes closes;
"May my wings be spent and I crumble, I don't crave nor need immortality; my dear moon.
My wings will carry me until my demise so may there be a new life!"
She cry, falling back to the ground; soon only silent fill the night.
Her wings soon carry no more, her cries is soundless; like the night she once dance
©i.e.b
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