Marisela W · Ashes
The tremors in the dust
The blackened shrunken wood
From the tallest of the green treetops
To the shriveled dark ground
The phoenix lives in a place of oblivion
Darkness surrounds
Till a splash of moonlight hits the pool of death
Till a golden soul touches the grim birth place
Until a pure mind asks
‘Where has this pile of ashes approached from?’
Until you would come along.
Then the ashes will rumble
Burn red, then white hot
A flame will appear out of nowhere
And grow with a magnificent roar.
It shall leap and tumble
Snap and growl
Till you hear the scream of 1 thousand
Till you scream it yourself
The phoenix shall come forth from that fire
With a snap, a growl, and a roar
Fire is her breast and feather
Her majesty and noble brow.
No havoc will her beast behest
Not singe a tiny mouse
Just circle the sun and back again
To the ashes and her rest.
© 2000 Marisela W.