Ashes to Ashes
Stirring the remains again. Seeing the embers still among the ashes. Each glowing particle holds concentrated power. It's a power over me, like little doors. I want to open them. And I'm tempted to blow on them and give them oxygen, feed them flamible things. But what is going to burst from the glow? A phoenix? Another raging fire? I can't predict if I'll be delivered or destroyed. Very few are afforded a phoenix, what makes me feel like I'd be so special? My pile of ash says I've gambled too much on this already. Maybe I'll let it all die after all. I hate watching things slip away, but law of conservation says energy isn't lost, it's recycled. Maybe dampening what's left smoldering is the first step to creating something better for myself. Maybe that's what a phoenix really is: Finding a different kind of door all together.