The Phoenix

In inferno the Phoenix has flown:
Wind and sky his flowing throne,
From his eyes the dream is drawn
To be ashes with the dawn.

His wounds are his accolade,
Kiss them dear that they may heal
As with the eon his feathers fade
Rimmed in song—the gods kneel.

To the fountain he will lay to rest
Sweet aurora within his breast
As the world dims its morning glow
And the rays about him grow.

New tears the sweet Phoenix shall adorn
As from the rainbow he is born,
From the waters he again shall rise
To crown with grace the leaden skies

The beauty to his wing once more
Where the seraph golden soar.
How the horizons rise and fall
With his flight singing over all
Glistening o’er the frosted dew
Into peace of the eternal blue.