The wounded phoenix, in all his fire
Eyes of the red-scorched sun that consume all he sees
Flicking, tasting the air
Again and again he rises, again and again he falls
Battered from his youth, knowing nothing but flame
Unable to regenerate completely
Unable to rejoin what was broken
Yet unable in his pain to move upwards fully
He feels the majesty of flight
Then is toppled
He rejoices in the wind under his wings
Then plummets
The crash always preceded by unimagineable pleasure
He revels in the sensations
All the more aware of the immenent collapse

When the fall is inevitable
And he knows nothing else
Twisting, burning, furious, and passionate
Yet tender, gentle, and breathless
How can he stay away from those heights
The heights that he was so brutally pushed from
The heights that cause the downfall
His eyes flashing with flame
Burning with desire
Charging the cliff face to climb up to the sheer dive

And the wounded phoenix, flying
Only to plummet again

When the plummet is all he knows
The rush is equally desired and feared
And soon he will fly again