01/09/2026
https://www.facebook.com/share/1C5GPvgMyp/
When Raven Speaks to Owl
Beneath the full moon’s watching eye
they face each other—
Raven of the dark knowing,
Owl of the quiet truth.
Stone remembers their names.
So does the wind.
Raven carries the stories of beginning,
the first laughter,
the first loss,
the sacred chaos from which all things rose.
In his feathers live the voices
of ancestors who learned
that survival is a kind of wisdom.
Owl holds the medicine of night.
She sees what hides behind fear,
what waits inside grief.
Her silence is not absence—
it is listening so deep
the soul begins to speak.
Between them, the moon hangs low,
round as a drum,
beating time the way the elders taught:
not forward,
not backward,
but in circles.
Raven says:
Remember where you came from.
Owl answers:
Remember who you are becoming.
The mountains bow their heads.
The trees hold their breath.
Even the stars pause,
for this is an old conversation—
one spoken long before words
were broken into borders.
They guard the doorway
between shadow and light,
between forgetting and return.
They remind the people
that wisdom wears many faces,
and balance is born
only when we honor them all.
If you listen closely,
you will hear it too—
the quiet agreement of the earth:
that no soul walks alone,
that the ancestors still watch,
and that night itself
is a form of love.
Artist and storyteller: Aurelia Moon
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