The phoenix will always rise again
from it’s own ashes made by spectacle.
How long it will take is never certain.
When it is ready, the phoenix will rise,
and all will marvel at the sight.
Heart full and hopeful to see it grow,
Waiting until the phoenix flies.
An astonishing show of beauty and wonder,
Fiery red and orange, soaring the skies –
over mountains and through deep valleys,
catch a glimpse of the phoenix
before the color becomes intense –
what was fiery is now flames.
Originally trailing wind, now smoke,
a moment before the flames consume,
The phoenix burns bright and bold
and ashes start to sprinkle
feathers molting to flame and ash.
And then the splendor is gone.
Just a flash before a pile of ash
waiting to be reborn again,
but no one knows when.
Hearts heavy as the miracle awaits
for the phoenix to rise again

T. Marina