n the time between dusk and dream, when the sky burns with fire and the trees whisper old truths, the raven appears — cloaked in midnight, eyes like ancient stars.
To the Native people, the raven is not a bird of sorrow, but of transformation, magic, and deep wisdom.
It walks between worlds — messenger of the unseen, keeper of secrets.
And when it perches beneath the sun, as in this vision, it speaks of balance:
light and shadow, life and death, beginnings and endings.
They say the raven once stole the sun and brought light back to the world.
Not out of mischief, but out of necessity — a daring act to chase away the eternal dark.
Since then, whenever we lose our way, whenever the path is clouded by fear or grief, the raven returns…
Not to scare us, but to awaken us.
It reminds us that even the darkest feathers can carry light.
That even in chaos, there is purpose.
That those who dare to face the unknown may find gifts hidden in shadow.
So when the raven calls beneath the glowing sky, listen.
For it does not cry for the past — it calls you forward, into the truth of who you are becoming.
