Phoenix

 

There is nothing left for me
in tomorrow's promise unfulfilled.
Unframed canvas, unpainted,
I stand in the corner and wait
for the right moment to arrive.

Punished for my abstraction,
unknown, unseen, unreal,
I feel the endless abyss
that gapes before me.

Passion is my phoenix,
ever renewed in its cycle
and perpetuated in a dream.
My thoughts reform, and reborn
desire resumes its circular course
until I yearn achingly for release
from this hellish reality.