I am like the phoenix.
When I burn, I burn with passion.
I engulf in pain and sorrowful
lessons that twist the flames
in a cyclone of
radiant, red, rotating fire.
The hard way.
The quick yet painful way.
Crashing waves of ashes,
in bubbling heat.
Fierce! Fiery! Passionate pain.
I go down fighting, fighting,
in tears that are meant to heal me,
but even tears won't stop this
After the flames have licked my flesh clean
and the heat has caused the fibers of my heart to separate,
and my body to bake
in grueling incineration,
only refined rubble remains.
there comes a cathartic stillness,
as if silence were a present
and sentient being.
There's something gracious
about the lingering smoke
in this time of waiting.
As it clears,
sunlight dances off the flecks.
Grey, yet dazzling. Diamonds in the dirt.
They are the subtle signs of hope,
if you look ever so closely.
If you are attentive.
IF you listen patiently.
And suddenly- a slight rustle,
a subtle movement in the ash.
A new fire emerges.
Not a burning fire, but the dancing fiery wings
of a new bird.
It bears the scarlet color of it's former experience,
only to show it off as something hard-earned and beautiful.
What was once a reckless force
is now a radiant remembrance of a transformation.
A badge of honor.
How fresh and how new and alive after such a harsh death.
Such are the ways of my emotions.
Such is the way of my heart when it breaks.
Such is the way of my soul when it learns a lesson the hard way.
Always the hard way.
Yet no wisdom, no happiness, no faith was ever obtained on the path of no adversity.