Looking ahead, I am not sure where this path may guide.
Yet, when I cast my gaze behind,
I see from whence I came.
From birth to death to rebirth again:
The light, the dark, the absence of both,
The child, the boy, the lost, the man,
The knowledge, the wisdom; not the same.
I open my eyes and gaze on all
That has been my plane of existence
With wonder that I even still stand.
For time and again, whether by my hand
Or that of the Fates themselves,
I have fallen to rise to fall to rise once more.
From the blood-tears that fell to the
Cries that rose to the states of mind to
No mind to the dark of night.
Over and over I made my bed,
Too hard, too soft, to none at all,
Too low, too high, too cold, too hot.
By choice or design,
By the life I live in that bed of flames
I rest my head.
I, Prometheus, stole the fire.
Stolen with zeal, life without wisdom,
In the fire I lay 'till no more.
Away went the ashes of all that was.
Each morning Apollo's chariot scorches
The heavens from east to west,
Night defeats day and day defeats night.
So, from these ashes of yesterday,
I, Phoenix, rise and gaze upon what was,
What is, and what may be.
Nevermore lasts evermore,
Moreover, Never forever.
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