In ones-self emotions can flood
Like crumbling crackling cracking wood.
Our self can tumble when tackling the demons in us.
We have to face them in the fire.
For look at what ill-gotten gains the ego allows to transpire.
Memories like embers. Twisting, flittering and frittering.
There is a reason the FIRE is spitting!
Unaware are the unwitting.
That the phoenix prepares to fly.
First the hate must die.
Red is the colour of hate and rage. And as I feed my fire with page after page.
Natural and learnt wisdom imbues
The fire a sullied blue.
For in sorrow that is when the true strength of the flames ensues. So, then is the Phoenix due.
Release your anger and hate none.
Release your anger and hate none. Or perhaps never hear the Phoenix's song.