The city burned like a dying Phoenix.
It has been ready for a long time,
it just needed a rebellious spark to ignite
its cracking foundation.
The city burned like it had a fire
in its belly that had been waiting...steaming...seething
in anticipation for a time when its heat
would be accepted,
welcomed by those who wanted to start new.
To those who wanted the ashes,
to those who were willing
to dance in the fire and
find something within themselves
that would not burn.
Let the inferno that blazed
ruin the corruption,
let its seeking fingers find
the ones who could not be found
by the ordinary,
let its tendrils wrap around the webs of deceit.
They were ready,
they would not burn,
They would rise.
Like a bird set free
they would shoot up with a piercing cry
and proclaim their freedom.
And proclaim that
the flames licked at their wings
but it did not burn them,
the heat rushed after their backs
but did not suffocate them,
Because they were the birds of fire,
immune to all that tested and tried,
and if they could be tried by war, and famine, and disease, and injustice,
Then fire could not touch them.
They were fire now,
testing and trying the remains of the city, finding a resting place to call home
from the ashes of the prison
that once held them.
No shackles to hold them,
no string to be dangled from from,
The free air flowed through their wings
Heart pumping the blood of the
living through their veins
and lifted them to heights
they had never known.
And as they soared into the heavens
and over the ruined city,
they knew they had their first glimpse of freedom.
For their freedom came in
fire and smoke and ruins.
SK
