The Raccoon (And the Myth)

Blissful glow
Under a willow tree
Kindness flows
From a golden reverie
It speaks in tongues
Of fore-bearers long forgotten
Humble lungs
That tell us to prepare for what's to come

Hands have built
Stories lain in the roots around him
Tales that quilt
A thread preserved in mystery
A welcome ear
Face creased like the rotten oakwood
Do not fear
He says as though he senses we're afraid
Our home will die, unless we find a way

He then begins to speak his mind
A legend lost from weary times
A secret song unearthed before our eyes
I heard a story long ago
Of spirits found in heaven's snow
Atop a mountain far above the skies

These spirits, pure as light could bring
An endless flow of water, spring
Back to places cursed with death and waste
In order to restore this life
It would not come without a price
A set of totems the spirits do require

The skin of a limbless ghoul
The feather of a winged fool
A trickster fit with pride that's bound to fall
The tooth of a putrid brute
The sharpest minds he can pollute
And last, a creature foul as death himself

The claw of a murderous beast
Starving for a holy feast
A bitterness untamed by nature's hands

But who would journey so far
Face the dangers and take on such perilous scars
The fox and bird looked to each other's eyes
Without a question, knew they had to risk it all and try

Forward they went, as faces met with shock
Knowing the restless spirits that'd hunt among the path they'd walk
Though their lives may be lost along the way
It'd be worth it all to save the home they knew deserved to stay