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,

tumbling, crumbling

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 

inevitable process.

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.

However violent, 

there comes a cathartic stillness,

as if silence were a present

and sentient being.



Still ecstasy.

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.








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