This is my first attempt using the daily image prompt from the 365 days of writing.
I am a day or 2 late with this particular prompt.
I have a thing about ravens, they are incredibly special to me, which isn't particularly unusual, except for the fact that I am very ornithophobic.
I would like to continue the theme using future prompts. I am greatly encouraged to do so from reading the works by the November NaNoWriMo free writers. I have enjoyed 
I'm also hooked on the relay writing of 
They are writing / running their second lap at the moment. Each writing a chapter, then passing the baton on to the next writer.
https://steemit.com/fiction/@blockurator/exquisite-corpse-2-get-off-my-farm-punk-a72c9a1a217a2est
I'm a little out of practice. I could list my reasons excuses, blah blah, but I just really want to put it all aside and find a few minutes a day to write something.
Thanks steemers for always providing the inspiration.
My Raven.
I was falling, I could feel the drag on my soul as each day turned night.
Not falling in the regular sense, not simply tripping over, but falling away from this world. Much like Alice down the rabbit hole, but without the visual aids she had to associate with her downward trajectory.
Alice found her style of falling curious, but the reference surely gave her an inkling of reality. Besides it being a slowed and protracted plummet with an array of unusual imagery, she was travelling in the regular fashion, generally speaking, or at least in the expected direction, with every expectation that eventually she would complete the process.
The mode in which I was falling on the other hand, although I sensed it in the pit of my viscera, could have been missed all together.
Many do misinterpret the process for some worldly burden, baggage claimed and carried for a time with little consideration for that which weighs them down.
Perhaps I too would have fallen in this fashion for a time, unaware of the true nature of things, had he not caught me.
My raven.
Though it was not the falling that alerted me nor was it the landing, it was in the catch.
Amid the free fall that presented as daily routine, I was plucked mid air. Sluggishly wafting, a heavy hung cloud through another thick stormy day, weighed down by the humidity, life stuck to my soul like soup, my raven dove through the nimbus and caught me.
In free fall we tangoed, entangled.
In the falling I learnt to again stand,
In darkest of nights was clarity found,
In flight as we soared I learnt I could walk,
It was in his grasp released from all bounds,
My own Quetzalcoatl falling from sky,
Enamoured for reasons that still perplex,
Power relinquished mine own fortify,
Redirect destiny within reflex,
Exquisite a rescue solitary hawk,
Asserting my corpse was worth which to dive,
Gave of his wings to enable my walk,
Landing and earthbound together we strive.