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Phoenix
Ashes fall
Cinders drift and cajole on the wind
Dancing, turning, restless
Before coming down and dying in the grass.
Scorch marks tinge the ground
And the nest is still slightly full.
The phoenix shakes his feathers,
Gleaming already;
And the fire begins to burn.
There are no such thing as second chances,
And she knows very well just how true.
Yet, we're all within an endless dance
Partners, always to Time and Whim.
They're unsteady, but glorious.
Full of awe and the sense of new
So, we meet again,
Introductions only for the sake of someone else.
Your eyes, searching, praising.
A million calculations for just a gesture.
An uneasy smile; a bashful grin.
Whim's reuniting, mending,
Ready to pick of the pieces and
Offer them to even the most disconcerted,
Her laughter cascading with silver bells.
Time offers you a gentlemanly hand,
And offer best unrefused.
Though, stubborn bold
You dance alone.
Spinning, maddened
Spirit churning, while only the tides crash
In your earthly awareness.
Time's lips are grim, set.
His offer of hand still standing.
Out of breath and unsure,
you place the tips of your fingers in
his lined palm
The world shifts,
Colors run, vibrant across the entire expanse
around you.
Time comes to a steady halt.
Following, wheedling
You come into the same building
To look upon your own figure in dotage.
Seated, feet propped up,
Though in her eyes the fires still burn
The dance still alive.
Your gnarled hands grasp another's
Just as gnarled as your own.
And as the phoenix rises from his ash
Myth meeting reality.
So shall you, always.
And together you'll dance,
the sky alight with fire.
11:27 am 6/9/01
