Light spills from an opening,
and drops

falling in the shape of a bird
and catching fire

the Phoenix of legend; I think.
an oddity of unchangability.

and from its dark and probing eye, 
a tear.

Beautiful, Graceful, Prismatic 
in the fall.

a crystal of contained simplistic 
pure form

and dreadfully, and slowly
shattering 

Into the gaping maw of war.


A light in the distance,
growing bright and chaotic.

Consuming the waste corpses
of dissatisfaction.

The tear of the Phoenix,
cleansing, yes.

The smoke of its passing is tainted,
black with the small bones of a child.

Passing into the sky,
Giving back in water 

what was taken in flames.


Mother earth is scarred now,
flesh seared and children churned.

A watcher in fields of white,
called by many names.

A tear in his eye for the Phoenix.
Another on his cheek for the broken.