raven down

A great darkness encircles 
as Squawking resounds
within a swirling madness
hundreds of crows 
come miles 
to help stir the fray
a swarming
spiraling vortex  
with a soulful racket 
they pronounce 
Raven down
end of days. 

And then it stops and goes quiet.  Sky clear. End of riot. A silence so pious. As if Never here.