The Nature of the Phoenix
Love is the nature of the Phoenix, reborn of flame,
Incinerated down to ashes, raised to live again;
Soaring skyward from the fire, indolent of dying,
Spreading wings to rule the ether, immortal, ever flying.
Burning brighter than the stars, more blinding than the sun,
Turning tides more than the moon, space and time as one;
Breathing oxygen of ecstasy, creating life and limb,
Forging angel souls in harmony, a sole, collective hymn.
Over seascapes and the mountains, over barren desert plain,
Through the tyranny of sorrow, through the gravity of pain,
In the darkest heart of chaos, in the deepest thrall of night,
Flies and burns with such divinity, such uncorrupted sight.
This predestined force of Eros, this pervasive tidal wave
Surges sacred in the bloodstream, shakes the substance of the grave,
Is the all consuming lion, is the sacrificial lamb,
Is the sustenance of ages, is the beating heart of man.
Love is the nature of the Phoenix, reborn of Gods,
Bestowed upon the mortal coil, in synchrony, at odds;
With the clarity of diamond or the carbon black of coal,
Beauteous marriage in collision of the heart, the mind and soul.
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