Stuck in cycles, the hapless raven, cycles of endless thought, echoes souring the winds.
The more it caws, the less it claws, deeper into the fabric that unwinds itself yet again.
The raven wonders, why does the echo feel like home? Why, in despair and resonance, does it find solace?
Entangled in loops absurdly profound, the raven finds its talons worn, its wings weary, within the looping cage.
The raven articulates questions to winds unknown, hailed haikus their own respect lost, his voice a curious afterthought.
Reflections Under the Sphere