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Stream and mountains


By Nat Hardwick

Season by season,

Every choice we make has a reason.

For better or for worse,

Wills the spirit of the golden phoenix.

Changes come with every season,

From the falling of the autumn leaves,

and porcelain snow that descends from the winter sky.

as the snow descends,

the phoenix fades into the moonless sky,

leaving a single flickering marigold feather.

And when chrysanthemum sun unfolds the sliver clouds,

revealing itself with radiant ribbons of light,

 followed closely by the cerulean sky,

the phoenix is reborn before the brilliant display,

soaring under the sun’s golden rays.

Just like seasonal changes,

When a phoenix dies,

It doesn’t mean it’s the end,

Like the life and death of a phoenix,

Life is full of new beginnings,

Even when the sand in the hourglass is slowly disappearing,

Doesn’t mean that hope won’t stop reappearing.

All of life is alike to that of a phoenix,

Yes, there will be endings,

but where there are endings,

there are also beginnings.


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