Having risen above the life-long muck,
he soared beyond the roof-lines of constraint
and veered towards mountains' aspiration
feeling the updraft lift him to the night.
His newborn smile was the moon's thin rim;
his talons gleamed with the touch of dawn.
He left behind the shackles of terrestrial time
and let the universe enfold his thoughts,
his heart beat slowed to the pulse of emptiness,
all burdens left behind with what was gone,
was lost.
The phoenix took one last look back,
stirred the cooling ashes of his life,
embers reigniting along long feathers,
setting the nest of wounded bowels ablaze.
Edited from blog entry "Flight of the unwanted son. Swandri, jandals, judder bars." . Inspired by: "His smile was the moon's rim" ~ B.H. Fairchild in "Flight". Note to self: the first 6 lines are almost like a sonnet and perhaps the entire poem could be rewritten as such.
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