The Phoenix
"And from the ashes a phoenix rose, with wings made of gold
it gently touched me, a touch of relief. I was ready to start a new circle,
hoping it would never come to an end.
"Never to late for hope" - The grey ice melted - slowly..."
Spring
Where is my world,
The beginning of my life bound,
Surrounded by light,
Wandering aimlessly around.
Hearing voices calling my name,
While I hover, world's a dark stain.
Where is summertime?
I'm longing for its warmth,
Far too long I shivered
In winter's icy force.
Clouds are above me,
Mild air caresses my lungs,
I let myself drift, waiting for spring sun.
Soft grass - but it hurts to walk over it,
Pointed stings - running between I stick
Brooks are roaring, the water blood red.
Please let me drink, but I can't, I'm dead.
...Souls are screaming, mothers and sons
Are slaughtering themselves,
Am I teaching a dream...
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