The Flight of the Phoenix

02 Apr 2025

From ashes born, a fiery gleam,
A Phoenix soars, a living dream.
With wings of gold and eyes ablaze,
It arcs across the sunlit haze.

Its feathers catch the crimson light,
A burst of color, pure and bright.
From embers old it rises high,
A symbol born from flames that die.

Another verse, another flight,
Through storm and tempest takes its height.
Until at last when day is done,
It perches on the setting sun.

Again it fades to ash and soot,
Yet in its heart, a tiny root.
For once again from death’s embrace,
It rises with rejuvenated grace.