Poem: “The Phoenix” (2021)
Intelligence expressed,
Like a secret everyone can hear,
Resided in the sky that night,
Its language speaking in fiery tongues.
In my reverie of last February,
The ground swelled pregnant with flowers,
Melting love and sunshine,
Like a mist, a memory not yet remembered,
Of Van Gogh breezes drifting in with the clouds.
Then we became a catalog of days,
In the four walls of fading,
As the golden temple was shining,
We read prophecies in our fingerprints
And drank ballads from old tomes.
Many eyes shone from the deep,
In a spiral, in a daze,
All our footsteps winding
Upon the path of our gaze.
Like some phoenix rising
From a burning gazette,
We found ourselves yearning,
For the traces of scent,
Like fading, lovely whispers
Woven in myrrh and unsettling ink.
We rose up from the flame,
No poison for which to think,
No precipice for falling,
No dancing at the brink.
I gave him my hand
As the divine mind conveyed
And gave him my heart:
He is king of all he surveys.
