Wings of Pure Light
   
   8/03/98 1:10 pm
   Charles Dum
   
   Ashe 2 Ashe,
   Dust to dust-
   A phoenix's life
   is not a bust.
   
   To rise amidst
   the burning flames
   is such a treat
   and not a game.
   
   To die only
   to be reborn,
   To live only
   to die the next morn.
   
   An unending cycle
   some wouldst be rid of
   while those it contains
   are as peaceful as a dove.
   
   To encircle the world
   with an immense wing span-
   only to be denied 
   the treasure of the land.
   
   For we mortals do live a life
   full of luxury and waste,
   While the phoenix strives
   to accomplish it's goal in haste.
   
   It would seem the world
   is in the phoenix's grasp,
   yet it stuggles away towards us
   of whom lock it in a clasp.
   
   For we know not the extent
   of the damage we cause
   trying to protect it 
   from the black claws.
   
   We give not a name to these claws,
   yet still agree they're there-
   only saying there's bad people
   wishing to pollute the air.
   
   Wether they are correct,
   or it's the phoenix's right,
   Who am I to tell,
   what is it's say?
   
   So I wander this land,
   the phoenix breathing down our necks
   as I feel the heat of it's wings-
   is it another sun? I check.