Her wings have lost the youth they had
Her beak is sharp-as-sword no more
Her tears don’t heal no wounds no more
Her need to be now is no more
She’s old, she’s old, oh! the magical bird
Her soul it burns: and it makes her mad
She casts, she casts her last great spell
Her wings afire the flames she lost
Burns: she burns while heart her aches
Ash of the body gives life to the soul
She finds the solace she once hath lost.
Gone, she’s gone; oh!the mighty great bird
Lost is her beauty in shades of gray
From the ashes she hath been born
To the ashes she now is lost.
Lost is the bird,oh! the magical bird
Lost is the bird who lived to be found
Now she found her life in death
She’s had enough of a wanted life.
Lost is her need for the golden wings
Now will she live like the lifeless live
Now will she fly, will fly with the breeze
Fly, will she fly like the world won’t know
All her life she loathed his life
Burned she’s now and freedom is hers.
But then: the bird, oh! the fabulous bird,
Wants she does or wants she not
Gather, gather the ashes together
And come they back with all her hues
Wings, and beak and legs and things
Dazzles the moon again in her eyes
Her beak gets sharp, as sharp as a sword
The bird is alive! The bird is alive!
Now when the mist takes the night in her womb
Listen, you’ll hear a Phoenix: she cries
When a lonesome moon gets lost in the night
Listen, the Phoenix: she longs to fly
And Listen, the Phoenix: she lives to die
7/15/2016
Circle Towers,
Fairfax, Virginia.