She Was Born on Fire

She was born on fire, November’s end, a burning spark, A soul that danced with purpose Through the stillness and the dark. A Sagittarius in silence, Not loud, but bold within, With dreams that stretched like galaxies, And steel beneath her skin. An INTJ mind — A maze of maps and plans, She builds new worlds in quiet With her own two fearless hands. She’s tasted storm and sunlight, Felt both heaven and the deep, She’s shattered, soared, and softened, In the places others sleep. Bipolar tides may pull her, But she does not drown or fall — She learns to breathe in chaos, She learns to rise through all. Alone but never lonely, She walks her crafted way, A woman made of wildness, Of wisdom, truth, and flame. And when they ask, “Who is she?” Don’t answer with her name— Just say: She is the firebird, And nothing stays the same.