The Black Angel

A murder of crows descends from the twilight sky, and settles in a huge tree, huddling against its gold leaves. Below them, King Lear writhes in the muck, moaning and cursing his fate. Suddenly aroused, he shakes his fist at the nearest crow: "Croak not, black angel. I will not love." The first time you fell out of love, you felt remorse and your heart bled for your forsaken partner... By the fourth time a lover failed you, you were merely glad the separation did not take more of your time. A black angel sees all from its perch. Your sleep is vexed by snatches of memory. A once-loved face will look ruefully into your sleep searching for the truth of your affair. The black angel stays in the background, but she will come night after night in this fool's errand. Oh, release her. Winter light only reveals the outline of things. It highlights the skeletal shape of trees, the tarnished whiteness of snow, and the wide wingspan of crows. Do not dismiss it: it has shed its dark radiance over your being and makes it glow. The black angel launches into flight and climbs out of sight. Are you ready, finally ready for the gift of love? Are you prepared to make the necessary sacrifices? Will you accept both the darkness and the light? Is your heart cleansed and your mind clear? Are you the man you claim to be? Or are you just a ghost presence in a murder of crows? The black angel returns and lurks nearby. He is always nearby. He may be a creature without a soul, but he has cunning and, day after day, he persists in his mission of watching over things and beings. He watches over you with special resolve. Do not writhe. Do not curse. His presence summons you to fulfill your human fate.