Where the sun meets moon while the ground's asleep,
A weary soldier lay at their sleepy feet.
While the clouds drift such morose and the stars twinkle apace,
Shows the light cast upon the spent soldier's face.
Hardened by battle and lost by war,
The trees sway, in whispering discourse.
The weary soldier stands on his feet,
Thinking of a Lost Man's keep.
With great discord he thought of his old treasurer friend,
With his fiduciary always coming to an end.
He trekked on and trekked on,
Never coming to a stop,
As he tried to find the beginning or end of the abundant mountain tops.
As he moved onward,
a pungent scent hit is nose;He bent apace,
his last repast he tried to enclose.
The thing he smelled wasn't a thing at all,
But a silly bugaboo retrieved from his deeply lost thoughts.
Soon the sun began to ascend and the moon began to descend,
He finally found the way to the minute town.
There was laughter and there was cheer as the villagers came to see,
The Soldier's rugged and weary face.
They were exulting and dancing and spinning with glee,
And they lifted him off his tired, weary feet.In their cheers and in their glee,
They consecrated him.
Then a small girl came up, just a child of three,
In a small, soft voice she said:"Is he a Phoenix? Is he! Is he?"
As the little girl spoke a few men laughed jolly,
As they picked her up and spun her around in no hurry.
"He is indeed!" One man said with a beard to his knees.
Another one nodded and agreed to agree.
So, they took the weary soldier a dressed him in reds and oranges and yellows and greens,
Gave the poor man a hot cup of peppermint tea.
They gathered logs and stones and built a bonfire,
So large that you'd need three ladders to get it up higher!
They sat the Weary Soldier in a throne made of glass,
Lit the fire,
and they danced,
danced,
danced.
They worshiped and praised the phoenix man,
Until the next sun came up and the second moon had risen.
After the party and celebrations were done,
They moved him into his very own castle,
Made of bricks and stones and lots of colored mud.
They created a kingdom just for him,
And celebrated day and night.
This continued for year as the phoenix never dies,
And if he did,
well that isn't a surprise,
he arose from the dead;He did it all of the time!
Well enough of the phoenix,
as the story stays the same.
The rest is history,
at least it ends okay!
