Phoenix of a Different Feather

I compress my ashes

The cold remnants of past

Their wistfulness scatters them

Each one a memory or thought

A scent or taste, a feel, a sound

Not every two points make a line

They lead to wells of the soul

Answers without questions to ask

Dreams from the awaken mind

Enigmatic truths starting blankly

They gray eyes return me to the ash

Mysteries consumed by unknowns

The flames being strangers to the fire

I still hold the match

Tomorrow I will burn again

My hands will form myself once more

I will ponder the things that were

I will divine what is to come for me

The more I search the answer

The further the questions become


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