There is a gurgling in my throat, a tingling presence. A sign from the Heavens. A voice from the Shadows. My words are gone. ONLY THE SHELL OF ME REMAINS. Sweep up the sparkles of my shards. Collect the glittering pieces of my demise. Take me into you. Breathe me anew. Mold me to your eye. Caress my feather-edges, and I shall rise once more. THE PHOENIX NEVER CEASES TO BE A PHOENIX. And so we turn, and we cycle. We twist, and we sigh. Your wrought-iron grip enhances my softness. My determination becomes the only audible beating of my heart. Your touch electric. Your vision ecstatic. I fall into worship; I fall and I bend. I bow at the waist, and I wait there silently, still before the altar of your gods, to be breathed.

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