Born From The Ashes

From embers bright, a flame takes flight, In darkest night, a spark ignites. The phoenix falls, its wings now torn, To die and rise, to be reborn.

With ash and soot, the earth it stains, A lifeless heap, in silent veins. But through the dust, a glimmer stirs, A pulse, a flame, a quiet purr.

The fire fades, then bursts anew, A heart revived, a life to view. From charred remains, the bird ascends, Its cry a song that never ends.

It burns and soars, it burns and dies, A cycle bound by fire’s ties. And in each fall, and rise again, It learns the grace of loss, and then—

A golden plume, a radiant glow, The phoenix rises, fierce, aglow. From ash to flame, from death to life, It dances through eternal strife.

For in the end, the fire's truth: To rise again is to renew. And through each death, it learns to soar, A phoenix born, forever more.