c2011 (S)
With deadly malice and unerring aim
The slender bolt, its point touched with flame
Into the thatch, so carelessly flown
The hand is revealed, the face still unknown
And the raging flames by the strong winds are blown
Out of the smoke, straight through the pyre
An apparition, he steps from the fire
His armour bright, the blade strong and true...
Lo and behold, from his ashes and his dust
The Phoenix arises, as surely he must--
Surely he knows thee, and the flavour of your mind
For you always come back, and when it is time
He will make short work, of you and your kind.
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