Bitter Prophecy.

With deadly malice and unerring aim

The slender bolt, touched with flame

Into the thatch, so carelessly flown

The hand is revealed, the face still unknown

The raging flames by the strong winds are blown

Out of the smoke, straight through the pyre

An apparition, steps from the fire

His armour bright, the blade strong and true

Lo and behold, from his own dust and ashes

The Phoenix arises, all shiny and new

Surely he knows thee, and all of thy works

When it is time, for he always come back

To make short work of the likes of you.