pheonix

A flash of fire, a pile of ash, A life that ends in one bright crash. But wait, the story isn't through, A secret thing begins anew. From the warm pile, a spark takes flight, A tiny form, a hopeful light. It grows and spreads, a golden hue, The Phoenix bird is born for you. With feathers bright of red and gold, A story often told. It leaves the ash and starts to soar, To live its life, and ask for more. It doesn't fear the fire's heat, For death is just a sweet retreat. It shows us all a simple way, To rise again, and seize the day. A bird of magic, strong and grand, The finest creature in the land. It teaches this with every flight, That after dark, there's always light.