The Phoenix is a made-up bird
The fierce head of an eagle
The brilliant colors of a pheasant
The wide wingspread of an angel
Can't you see it's love's emblem
Bathed and burning in the fire
Of its own freeing destruction
Every evening smouldering to ashes
Which the earth gladly accepts
And carries to its central source
Every dawn it's sent
Aloft again however love
Construes it even now
It's kindling its assumption
In your heart's imminent flight
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