The symbol of all things

We’re more than a little cracked
Ravens wheeling in the sun
Madly in love with the ugly
Worshipping the honesty of the caw
We are resplendent in our darkness
We own death and all the shiny things
We turn the broken into art
And honor the dead with our life
We watch the pretty birds babble
Beautiful songs empty of meaning
They cower from our shrieking psalms
Our ancient odes to the sun
We are more than a little mad
Considered the harbingers of death
But we are the symbol of all things
The fruition of all cycles
We smile at the scorn of the lovely
For without us to clean the corpses
To counterpoint day with night
They would simply be babbling ornaments
Strutting on the bones of the dead