Birds of a feather stick together,
Except for the phoenix which burns like fire.
Fire so hot, scorching, incinerating me!
I am immortal, yet broken and reborn in fire,
A renewed desire, to live once more,
My fire burns forever more.
My soul, incandescing,
Cleansed once again my friend,
In a holy pyre.
Unending torment gives way,
To a vibrant choir, a chorus,
Singing songs of regenesis.
What will become of me,
When my pain turns to ash,
And I fly away?
I need to remember who I am,
Should I cash it all in and go,
Or should I stay.
If the end is coming again,
I will be ready, already stoking the fire
With a longing for hope.
The time will come,
Where I must pass the torch,
Blazing in the darkness.
Pass it on,
To one who has the spirit,
To continue on the journey.
Whoever you will be,
Raise your voice up high,
I will be there.
I am burning, alive once more,
Reborn forever more.
Like the phoenix of lore.

© Tom Stanley