beneath the Tree of Knowledge, thou receivedst a kiss,
and thy right name was given thee thy name, Poetry.
(from: The Phoenix Bird by Hans Christian Andersen, 1850)
The fable tells that every hundred years, the Phoenix burns himself to death in his nest; but each time a new Phoenix, the only one in the world, rises up from the red egg.
My life is burning...it's on fire.
All of it is being baptized in the death of the old, to make way for a rebirthing of the new.
It's not easy watching things burn, there is a sense of doom and opportunity all mixed within it's transforming heat.
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