If I reincarnate, let me be a crow.

If  I reincarnate, let me be a crow. 

I want to know what it feels like to fly around and still be able to sustain friendships to others; to nimbly pick your food but graciously bide my time until the very moment your heart parlously skips a beat not knowing whether you injured me or not. 

To glide and gently land onto a stranger’s fence as an opportunity to have my majestic form present itself in front of the stranger, but have the false sense of time thwarted by my abrupt departure into a space your contentiousness cannot reach me, travel further than your incarcerated soul can muster to meet me. 

Threaten the life out of your existence and reduce your view time to a few merry seconds, having you ponder on how you will attract me longer next even though I won’t visit you for many a moons to the point your fierce ambition attains to cull me into the space of your awareness. 

The diligently mustered panoply of your memories might provoke your mind into believing the cause of us meeting is destiny, though it is me that decides when I arrive and leave. Do I show you my wings so dark they were appointed crow-black one day?