A story of the phoenix who's ashes didn't bear another.

I

A lovely night had come to pass,
Some twenty years ago,
A lovely night without a past.
She'd given me a purple rose;
I'd let it fall under a stampede.
I’d let them stamp out its seed

And crush it beyond reparation,

Alone in my empty railway station,

Keeping clean from devastation

On a forgotten, defeated nation.

That night I lied to she who didn’t,

And tied myself to this precedent

Of an ultimate ruin in the end,

Where I drive off the cliff at the crooked bend.

That night I’d cried to myself alone

In my bed before I slept, and gone

Through many painful phantasms

With cages carrying imprisoned orgasms.

That night dragged on like a plow

Edged with razors on my skin

Until my blood had ceased to flow,

Far outdone by its sin.

II

Empty footsteps in buried alleys,
Orange sunsets spent alone,
Putrid rivers in barren valleys
Reminded this young man of home,

Once he woke from his night of sorrow

To a tempestuous dawn aglow

On the east end of the purple sky,

Where the sun did burn the darkness dry.

He dressed himself in canvas clothing

And shaved and combed his hair with oil,

Useless attempts to hide the loathing

He had for life, that in his eyes did boil.

He walked out of his wooden cave,

Cold with night’s chilly breath,

For never did he firewood save

To burn on days of nearing death.

He walked across the burning moorlands

That bore the signs of that stampede

Where, in some long lost grain of sand,

He’d lost the purple rose’s seed.

He walked on through across the grass,

And came across an aged home to pass
The old man in his porch sweeping the brown dust,
As his lonely young wife lay burning in her lust.

He walked into her room and stroked

Her hands, looked out at the trees

Swaying in the arid morning breeze,

And lit her on fire with embers stoked

With newfound passion and fleeting

Fancies, that satisfied, will run away

In an instant, leaving old dismay

To Walk back through the door in somber greeting.

III

What if you hide your love away and forget where you've hidden it?
What if you've tried too hard to be the Back-door Man and are left locked outside?
What if you saved up to your last penny and discovered they’d given it?
What if you see a mother in agony searching for her son and you figure he's long dead since the time you poisoned him with your words?
What if you dream that she makes love just like a woman, and you're still a little boy?

What if you’ve told her not to cry coz you still love her, being the little boy, unawares that it’s your maimed love that makes her cry?

What if you disfigure your being and risk everything on a coin toss, but the postman forgets your address?

What if you follow her casket praying to lord, just to find her alive and yourself dead?

As the slaves of despair make you their playground,

And forget that they were here to play,

The sun bids goodbye to the trees around

The grazed field in which you lay

Pondering on whether you were betrayed

Or just another scared failure,

And you starting wishing that she’d stayed

On a bit longer, till you were sure.

Suddenly, just a bit ahead of the woods’ end,

You see her calling, hands in air,

You run towards her healing scent

And long to brush against her hair

When earthly sorrow stops you still

And slowly drags home its kill.