The Death of the Phoenix

Photo by Adonyi Gu00e1bor on Pexels.com

My Dearest Mad-Readers,

Would you be against a dose of prose this afternoon (unless it is morning or night where you live) ?

* * *

Death’s shadow is drawing closer. It becomes more oppressive. The bird is here, sitting on its perch, awaiting the ultimate moment. Its livelihood is leaving. The very essence of its short existence is about to leak out. This legendary animal’s bright feathering is progressively losing its sheen. The burning fever gets more and more painful. Its heart is burning, its body gets consumed, its soul is on fire. A sharp cry tears apart the universe and the ashes of this tiny creature fall down on the ground, as simply as dust spreading through the air. It is all over. The shadow moves away, victorious.

She is gone. Her murderous work is done. She shall still need to come back, for the legendary phoenix is immortal.

* * *

If you liked this poem, perhaps you will have a good time reading this one too. In any case, I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, I’d love it if you could show your support by liking, commenting or following the (sanely) mad author that I am. You may go crazy and read every piece of writing on this blog if you wish. Thanks for your time and have a great day (or night) !

Take care,

Phil.

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