So much out there,
So much Unknown.
It is so fair,
Like the rhythm of a tone.

Underneath blankets,
Underneath the night.
Where no one would let,
No moonlight give light.

As deep as the breath,
Of morning mist air.
No one seeks death,
But all will care.

It's as blank as a canvas,
A canvas full of paint.
On my shoulders its mass,
Is not too faint.

It's a Ravens wing,
Rippling through the stars.
We will hear all sing,
Through the capturing of jars.