The Phoenix
Ashen bird crossing distances,
untamed by nature's fury
beating wings hurriedly,
without just cause for time--
divided by a crimson coat,
that burns on in the night
the essence of the burst,
tears a wound that heals--
clawing at the --sky-- for help
greeting the new bodied rise,
soaring without an ending
goes blindly into a new beginning
alone and untouched--
there is order in the world.
Copyright © Marcello Colasurdo | Year Posted 2010
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