Raven Spirit Of The Night

Her lustre face compounds beauty,
yet her darkened eyes summons fear upon those weak in mind,
upon those weak in will,
for she is the Raven Spirit of the Night,
the one that makes her victims cry.
I hold her and embrace her,
my all in all she is,
she has become my shelter,
she has become my forsaker,
when darkened hours gather up in scornful laughter.
She is the Raven Spirit of the Night,
she is the one I behold in all her might
and her incantation stronger is,
than any mortal's will,
and submerged I am in her,
in all this that I feel.
She is the spell-bounder of her victims,
the ebber of their days,
and she envelops them in clay,
and with wind and breath she blows them away.
She harvests their terror and fears,
and upon these she makes endless rivers of tears,
sliding them out of mundanity,
drowning them in their miserability,
and her darkened eyes would shine as time passes by,
to which she is no more tied.
She is the Raven Spirit of the Night,
enveloping me in all her might,
making enemies their share cry,
embracing me in a way tight