A fire is burning,
Awaking, longing, yearning,
Splitting in two, one stays, one runs.
One embraces the night, one dies in the sun.

A dream is coming to life again.
Once cold, alone, silently she mends.
Scars like webs, weave with precision new life,
The heart grows cold, becoming sharp as a knife.

The once fragile soul left alone to die,
Now has wings to soar with no fear to fly.
Watching and waiting, perfecting her sight.
To rise once again and set things right.

The fire is burning,
Awaking, longing, yearning.
Brushing away the old like dust on a shelf,
Rising stronger as she finds herself.

Kay L. Rice