The crow’s complaint

Standing on chaff in an old farm, the crow felt trapped in a huge vault of endless dimensions, where delirium found no echo. For him happiness did not exist, loneliness was omnipresent and existence a divine irony.

But he kept puffing up his body in a selfish attempt to erase everything else and to be alone, to belong to himself so as not to share his pain with anyone. Why would I want to be on this Earth?, he said to himself, if it all turns to mud soaked through with blood and tears, strangles all life and rots all flesh.

A torrential downpour distracted him from his musings and he flew off without knowing where he was going… Suddenly a murderous light cut through his body and with a tranquil demeanor he realized this was the path he had been looking for.