THE PHOENIX MEMORANDA

                                  And now the same old flame

                                                From this meager candle

                                                That listens to my sorrows,

                                                My grief;

                                                Is the exact, same

                                                Flame that stands

                                                Witness to my freedom.

                                                It sits right with me,

                blessing me

                                                In celebration of my

                                                Rebirth, filling my

                                                Chalice with its

                                                Its silent jubilation,

                                                Whispering

                                                There is hope yet.

                                                Its molten wax no longer

                                                Resembles pungent tears

                                                For so long, flooding

                                                My spirit.

                                                Now taking shape

                                                of great fervor,

                                                Victory…

                                                Peace…

                                    With this flame

                                                I have died a thousand deaths.

                                    From this fire,

                                                I shall rise yet again.

11:50pm

February 11, 2007

Vista Hills