In seventeen years the Phoenix resumes
like a prodigal hellbent it consumes
and cataclysmic entombs once again
a cycle of doom time hides from our ken
our descendants, like our ancestors, stare
at the reddish night sky–sun doesn’t dare
to watch the destruction, the construction
of man in disruption, the corruption
buried deep where the elite try to keep
power but the hour has come to sleep.
And so now at the height of our glory
in our forum create a love story
and fill every moment we’ve been given
–and not by stacking fiat greed-driven
but kindly, misdeeds forgiven, renew
our souls, remember what we’re here to do.