Rebirth of a Phoenix

Seasons past and months have gone and yet still here I am. Perhaps a bit rough for wear or mayhap a bit worn out, yet here I stand on mine own two feet as I set out across stormy waters. Such sort absence short of a lifetime in smaller people’s minds, a reprieve, amnesty, a stay of execution.

Will wings unfurl like laundry on a windy day, thermal columns, lifting waxen wings like Icarus? Or shall I sing sweet night gale against the polished brass. That guided cage, it’s satin sheets, it’s ivory posts, a delicacy not to be touched.

And here I stand between the new and what has already come, ash falling to my feet like the first winter snow, dusting my boots as my soul blazes into that eternal night of what is yet to come.

As I stare I am watched. As I walk I am followed. Arms outstretched like a mighty warrior the call of war down deep inside and waiting. A lump of coal ready to be stoked. Pressure. Diamonds. Light.