Work in Progress: The Phoenix and the Albatross

You, the Gestalt:

Or

The Phoenix and the Albatross

 

You are a rusted relic of splendor and ruin.

A tarnished tine jutting from the roiled roots of your

Imperial past.

A Sepulchral Sun.

 

Rising and falling in Your perennial production.

 

To me

You shine

LED-like within Your bleak and pulsing nights that seem to stretch unparalleled into the continuum.

and I cannot flake myself from Your

tinder skin.

 

A clever thief, You are.

Humored and intrigued by my adolescent albatross

attempting flight and failing

and failing

and gloriously failing.

Clamoring over myself to

simply

touch

down.

 

Painstakingly practicing the parts

of one simple act.

 

And You;

Effortlessly executing every element

fractured and flawless.

Each feather glowing.

Each wing a fortress.

 

Each death

a diamond.

 

 

 

 

This won’t last.

You’ll steal me just as You’d planned.

 

You’ll take all the parts You want

and leave the scaffolding scorched and barren.

You are a cruel game I play with myself.

It’s the only time I can predict who will win.

I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.

 

I just want

so badly

to be gracious in my ruin

and humble in my splendor.

Seamless as the sunrise.

 

I will never stop.

I will come back.

Even after it destroys me.

 

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