Rising From

A new morning brightens further
Passing from a steel gray-tinged blush
To a fresh emblazoned clouded sky
Of purplish pinks and pale yellows.

All around the land lay
Scared, torn, and blackened.
A biting wind rages
As an entombed spectre
Setting free crusted ashes
Once grounded.
The soul remains of something glorious.

Turning in upon itself, the wind
Thrusts upward,
Carrying rippling flecks of ash
Into a tightening pillar.
With the chaos
Of this ebon swarm is a dance
Rhythmic like a prancing swan.

A single shrieking scream
Pierces the veil of solitude
Echoing, echoing, echoing
In an ever higher pitch
Forever fading...

Imploded with a sucked THUMP!
Ashes coalesce into a spark
Forged of white-hot celestial fire.
Pulsing like a heart.

The wind is dead!
Stillness reigns and time
Falters in eternal brevity.
Rising from its ashes burning
Death passes into Life
And what once was, is now again.

With great thrusts of wings flared,
The mighty myth rises higher.
Each bellowing beat
A cavernous drum

To soar.