June 11, 2011
The once spry phoenix slows his flight
As he descends towards Earth
The flaming hawk's blazing plumage glows in the setting sun,
flickering with the once mighty creature's wheezing respiration
As the phoenix touches down he collapses in a heap
His once vibrant orange, red, and gold feathers
Are now barely more than an ember
The light in a dark world will soon perish
With one last, lonely call, the great flame falcon expires
A pile of ashes remains as a memorial
But from the ashes rises a new, infantile bird of flames
The juvenile spreads his wings from his former grave and ineptly takes flight
ruffling and stretching his incandescent banner like wings
Bringing illumination and hope to a dim, desperate world
Beginning anew

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