As Scarlet Turns Crimson

By Sven Aranha

As scarlet turns crimson,

The fledgling edges away from home,

Searching for its own sun,

Losing its quavering tone.

The price for flight,

A gradual loss of sight,

A glimpse of its light,

As faint as the sun in the night.

As crimson turns maroon,

It finds itself a loon,

A slip of the heart,

It finds itself mired in a new art,

Wont to bloodshed, it cries,

Internally, for its body forgot how,

Forgetting it has cut ties,

Inadvertently, for it couldn’t stop now.

As maroon turns black,

It glances at Erebus longingly,

A final hit and a rope to slack,

Around its neck, chirping quaveringly,

Tenebrous tendrils tantalized its conscience,

Its end couldn’t look better,

The final drop of scarlet set the ambience,

For the death of the executioner

It bled black, darkness consuming the scarlet that mottled it.

Does black turn scarlet?

By Sven Aranha