New Sun, New Day.

A molten gold drop for an eye,

She was a bird that smelled of fire.

Her feathers shone amber

Like jewels, or lava.

As if the swirling smoke and flame,

Had escaped the ring of the burning sun

And clung to her, dancing.

 

She was a small flame,

But the air would burn under her wings

As she tried to fly

Until it rotted black and fell,

Charred.

Her touch was only friction.

The other birds were cool and

Expansive as the sea.

They would rinse the same air with a mist

Seal up the seared holes,

While this little flame left fiery currents

That singed the ice, but she never flew.

 

But once,

It rained and rained

And she dimmed and flickered,

Reduced to a subdued red glimmer.

While the other birds felt restored,

A fresh sheen – elemental blue.

 

The rain sank down endlessly,

The long daylight wept as well

And even when the sunset met with the storm

It did not end.

It was somber and dark.

 

The blue mixed with the grey mixed with the dark

Until it was all an extinguished dead mass.

And then the sun let out a lone ray –

Before it was quenched by the dark

 

And it set her on fire.

 

And as she finally flew across the dark

The darkness darkened still,

So a bright red streak remained amongst the ash and stars

And her incendiary flight was brilliant and still lasts.

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