The Phoenix is a reality. It is possible for the human being to be that. We can rise above the ordinary, worldly self which struggles so hard to make sense of life. To rise like that is an act of grace. We cannot make it happen. That is why it is mythological. It is a truth – but it cannot be. These truths go so far beyond the realistic, the intellectual, the factual that people find it difficult to conceive of them. But those colors are there, of the Phoenix. When the smoke clears their truth is revealed. It is remarkable to grasp something in reality which should not be.
There was a flame, which was also a wing, and a thought –
it craved life, it craved space in me. I could
walk on the ground it lit for me, where my feet
had never touched ground before. I could think,
with that pinion behind my head, and the thought
would spread and spread and spread. Pure
Phoenix, I can hear your turmoil, your amazing colours
defying the chemical stillness, because
you should not be.
Best wishes, today,
©Jay Landar 2013. All rights reserved
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