A time to
die.
A time to release our cares and drift to foreign campii.
Time to be in a way foreign to the being we have known.
Time to experience different dimensions, different states of corporeality.
Reborn in ways uncomprehended, we leap anew like dolphins in the weak spring sunlight.
Our nascent selves await we know not what.
Phoenix, you have nothing on me.
I am not defunct, done, dead as last year's garden.
See me now, see me tomorrow.
I am potential undreamed of, a variable of unknowable value.
Watch me now, I'm on my way.
I have become the Phoenix.