Taste of Ashes
Wednesday, May 11, 2005If I were a phoenix, I would have feathers that started off blue, then became purple as they went down to my tail. I would have a green blue breast, and my feathers would be edged in copper, and my eyes would be gold fire.
And after awhile, when everything got too much, and I had gotten to a dead end where I’d failed at everything, I would burn. I would rise from my own ashes, and I would be beautiful and pure again. Perhaps I would remember, instinctively, my mistakes, and avoid them.
I am so disappointed and stressed and tired right now, that I burn hot enough to incinerate at a touch. Come and see. My flesh is unbearable. A chance breeze, and I could catch, my fingers, my heart, the marrow of my bones would all be but dust.
But I know better. I will not rise. My ashes would blow away. And no one would even remember my name.
Permalink Cindy scribed this at 5:35 PM
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