poetry, prose, and everything in-between



The glimmering and galactic metamorphosis of light,
Into the fiery phoenix ready for flight
Not one, but two, feathers of gold
Changing again, to fit the mold.
The once fiery and free becomes like a tree,
Chained down for life and eternity.
The devil within that seeks for our fears,
Needs only to use a large set of mirrors
For the fear that we fear is nearer and near,
Within all of us is the path to our tears.