The Raven Amongst Mjölnir’s Storm

Today’s addition to the Raven’s Tales is written once again in a descriptive yet altruistic and symbolic form. Due the lack of familiarity some might have with the symbolism used within this piece, I would like to give a brief perspective into just what this poetic piece means. This poem is my attempt of defining the grieving and mourning process that I am currently going through, since the burial of my little Angel.

Mjölnir (commonly known as Thor’s hammer) here, along with Thor and the storm, conveys the constant battle within my own mind and soul, to come to grips with the whole situation at hand.  The flickering shadows and the trickster conveys the dominance of the darkness, the depressive thoughts that encircles my mind, whilst the gallows envisions my mental state snuffing out the small glimmers of hope that might arise.

The Gallows hymns are the voices of those that surround me, that continually try to pull me back from the brink of my depression, which in itself further cements a battle within my mind, to remove myself from the distractions that these voices would provide. As always I hope that you enjoy this addition to the Raven’s Tales, and hope that the emotion that I sought to convey within this piece, comes across well when you read it.

Until next time,
The Raven

The Raven Amongst Mjölnir’s Storm

As Mjölnir descends and lightning strikes in the night,
A Raven extends his wings but does not take flight,
Ashes adorn his visage from beak to feather,
Silently enduring Thor’s stormy weather,
His eyes fixed upon the trickster dancing in the shadows,
Whilst the Flock sings hymns destined for those upon the gallows…

Thunder and lightning tear the skies apart,
As the Raven releases a visceral call straight from the heart,
Silence fills the realms except for a lonesome, continuous beat,
And the eyes of the Raven remain transfixed on the street,
The trickster flickers between the shadows this night,
Lightning strikes as shadows transcend between darkness and light…

Thor’s thunder and the Raven’s beat have now merged,
An unholy cacophony above the tree of the damned has converged,
The Raven seems disturbed by this unnatural sound,
Yet his eyes remain transfixed upon the shadows upon the ground,
And so upon the tree of the damned he stands tall,
Hearing the Flock yet ignoring the call,
Still clasping within his beak, a wilted rose,
As his mind begins speaking in riddled prose,
“Pandora’s box has been opened, never to be closed again”,
“For from the Raven’s ashes, shall ascend a feathered pen…”

The tree of the damned has emerged once more,
Standing amongst the shallow graves as before,
The thousand tiny bones highlighting the sins of the past,
We echo our mistakes so they continually last,
And yet the Raven sits upon the wretched tree,
Mesmerised, confused, and unable to break free,
The Flock begins to circle and now he hears the call,
But still he refuses to speak, for fear of letting the wilted Rose fall,
So the Flock transcends across the nine realms into Midgard below,
To find themselves embittered by the presence of blood in the snow,
For now they find themselves upon a place the Raven was once before,
Upon the pulpit by the furnace, unable to speak, save for one word, Nevermore…

Written by The Raven –  01/06/2015 ©

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