Like a Phoenix

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Can't even you, Apollo,
see my glistening,
red-gold plumage,
or hear the beauty
of my melancholy tune,
singing on the brink
of an infinite well,
my tears healing deep wounds
so that once more,
I may spread
my immortal wings,
and fly,
far, far away
from these mountains
of ashes,
to the shimmering,
red-gold star
as it beautifully rises

I, New and Reborn.





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