Even a Phoenix
Had to learn the secret
Of death and rebirth.
Even they must have a beginning
Before the end
Where they practice and perfect,
When they learn and apply
The deep and devastating work
Of pain and dying;
Of rising from the ash.
Even they must learn the compass
From which they learn to eternally rise.

There is a start.
There is a beginning at every other beginnings end.
There is a day when death takes over,
The feelings burning raw and fresh
And the fire burns out.
And our soul in body
How does it lament
When seeming death visits
While we still ache within our flesh?

Our fire
like the past can
Just quietly burn out,
And in the aftermath
When it feels as if there is
No other choice,
But to relent to the death,
A flame ignites from nothing.
A rosy glow begins to fill the void.
Dreams alight in a nightmare,
Hope sparks where none was there before,
And this spark grows and rekindles
Until it bursts aflame,
And the reaper has no more grip,
Sorrow ceases to weep,
And life leaps out of its mouth.

And I know this of learning,
Nay, mastering,
the way of the Phoenix.
There is an end yes,
But make no mistake,
Permanence is subjective,
And reawakening,
Possible, teachable
Making new once again,
That which was forged,
Toughened, annealed,
By repeated blows,
When our spirit rises from that fire,
We rise higher than anyone
Even we,
The tempered,
Could have hoped.
Our wings aflame
Our dreams birthed
From ash and fire
And the promise that hope tells us
Is resting in another tomorrow.

-Angel Marie Russell
Art by Viaggi


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