AUTHOR'S NOTE: My boss suggested I add an extra epilogue chapter to tie things up. I thought I'd end things on a pun. Still a draft.
Three years have flown by since the day
The Phoenix came and storm'd away.
I've wondered what would have occurred
If we were kinder to the Bird.
If She had won that utmost bet
Would we have seen rewards be set?
Would skies have rained with crystal gold?
Would Fortune Trees have taken hold?
Would we be free of ills and pains —
Be perfectly re-nerv'd again?
But Father says to cast aside
Such fancied thoughts and faeried lies.
He says it's best we see the truth —
That kindness can be far and few,
That humans, as an apex beast,
Will always crave for fame or feast,
That if we find a kindly soul
We treasure them in part or whole.
On certain nights, when I have dreams
Of flying fierce in Fiery Teams,
Feeling hot and bulletproof,
Soaring over peaks and roofs,
Diving deep through space and time,
Peering down in distant minds,
I am trying hard to find
Kindness hid in humankind.
YOU ARE READING
The Phoenix on the Roof
Poetry"Still the phoenix sits upon / The world in fearsome form, / With a crown upon her head / And the beauty of a storm." Newfound World, c. 1699: A phoenix nests on the roof of a house in a small colonial town, sending ripples throughout the community...
