The Phoenix

A fiery bird nearing the end
The Phoenix travels one last bend
The river will lead to the land of his birth
Where his name was sung with mirth
He is old, his feathers dim
But he was the bird of life and whim
He once sparkled in fiery colors
The tale all children were told by their mothers
A crest of fire upon his head
He filled evil hearts with dread
His beautiful song upon the air
Drifting off to who knows where
He harmed no creature, not even mice
All he drank was dewdrops, all he ate was spice
Yes, he was handsome, kind and brave
But as all creatures must, he'll go to the grave
But he has a secret, expressed in his song
The Phoenix never dies, at least not for long
He'll build a pyre of spices and wood
And set it alight, which may not seem good
And he'll burn himself down, to ashes he goes
But the Phoenix will live again
Because among the ashes of the nest
A baby bird with a small fiery crest
A new little Phoenix, the old one too
A reborn bird in fiery hue
Flapping new-and-old wings, singing new-and-old song
The phoenix was alive all along
He cast off his old age, burned it in flame
It's a different bird, and also the same
He will fly across the world, guard it once more
All around the world, celebration galore
And as he grows, his song will ring clear
He'll harm nothing, to him life is dear
His feathers alight with magical flame
Friendly and good, but can never be tamed
For 500 years, he'll travel the earth
And wherever he goes, his name will be sung with mirth
Until the day his years are done
Then he'll travel to his birthplace, shining with sun
And he'll build a pyre of spices and wood
And set it alight, which may not seem good
And he'll burn himself down, to ashes he goes
But...
The Phoenix will live again