I Would Die Contentedly By Moonlight
On Phoenixes and Immortality
A Poem by T N Teague
From the molten embers,
I am torn,
every thousand agonizing years, a cycle of searing flame,
crimson feathers,
and mournful ash-
I rise, resplendent, a beacon of the eternal,
bound by fate....
I would die contentedly by moonlight.
Each rebirth,
a gift, they claim-
infinite life, boundless possibility, the thrill of starting anew...
the weight of wisdom ageless and heavy.
But what is immortality to a soul that aches for respite?
I have seen empires disintegrate into ruin,
lovers wither, die,
and return to dust,
children of my heart, generations upon fleeting generations,
names lost to the indifferent wind.
I would die contentedly by moonlight.
They whisper of my beauty,
my eternal blaze,
the miracle of my existence-
but what is beauty when it cannot wither?
What is a miracle that knows no end?
To burn forever is to carry a torch of despair,
a flame that never cools,
a light that never fades.
I would die contentedly by moonlight.
Each death, a brief release, each rebirth, an unwanted promise-
the cycle relentless,
the wheel unending.
I yearn for the cool embrace of the final night,
to sleep beneath the silver sky,
to let the moon caress my weary feathers
one last,
eternal time.
For what is a life without end, but a story with no closure?
An endless verse...
a song without resolution?
I would die contentedly by moonlight.
To lay down the burden of eternal flame,
to let my ashes rest in peace,
to see the moon one last time,
and know that it is the end...
truly the end.
To feel the cool night wrap around me,
to surrender to the quiet,
to embrace the stillness.
For in the end,
even a Phoenix dreams of a final dawn,
a rest that does not rekindle,
a peace that does not burn.
I would die contentedly by moonlight.
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