A Phoenix Rises from its Ashes

 Dedicated to my friends, you know who You are :)

A phoenix is a mythical bird with a colorful plumage and a tail of gold and scarlet (or purple, blue, and green according to some legends). It has a 500 to 1,000 year life-cycle, near the end of which it builds itself a nest of twigs that then ignites; both nest and bird burn fiercely and are reduced to ashes, from which a new, young phoenix or phoenix egg arises, reborn anew to live again. It is said that the bird's tears contain healing abilities of pureness, and their cry is that of a beautiful song.-Source: Wikipedia

In the room beyond that door, which is just like the one I currently am in, I can see a marvelous crystal phoenix. The sunrays from the window, reflects various colors from its surface, not unlike a rainbow. It’s perfect, in every sense of the word. So perfect, it seems mythical, but it is right there, and I can see it, and so it must be real. Every move it makes, it seems to radiate, not reflect the light that falls on it. Every word of its song seems so beautiful to me, so precious, so true. A tear drops from its eye. Even that tear drop seems perfect, perfectly shaped, healing some wound, making things a bit better.

I’m sure if you step in my place, you’ll see it too. As you move, closer, away, as you sway, as you stand still, you notice it imitates you perfectly. It looks so perfect, yet you look for imperfections. It looks so familiar, and you can’t place it. Until, you catch the glimpse of light reflected from its eye, and you realize. It isn’t any crystal phoenix. It’s a mirror, and you are the crystal phoenix.

You, the one with the tear pouring down one eye. You heal the wounds of others with it, ignoring the wounds hidden deep within you, which time hasn’t been able to heal.

You, the one that even when you cry, it seems a beautiful song to the listener. The one that soothes, that calms, ignoring the chaos within you. Melodious, exactly what the listener wants to hear, answering life’s questions for someone, with no one to listen to you ‘crying’.

You, the one that is perfect, ideal. An example for others to follow. You, that is meant to follow a path laid out for you since before you were born. One that leads to things admired, sure, but one you may not have wanted. One you can’t stray from, even when what you do want, is right around that previous turn you should have taken on your path.

You, the one supposed to lead. The one that others can look up to. No guides or aides to help you, but you must lead towards a victorious end. You, that can do no wrong, not because you’re always right, but because you are not allowed to do anything wrong. Only your glories are to be highlighted, your failures, rare though they might be, punished personally, and unknown to a world that could learn from your mistakes.

You, the one that seems crystal to the world, so exquisite, so delicately put together. Everyone appreciates that. No one appreciates how little it would take to break you.

But it does take little to break you. You are that brittle. Maybe one little push, a shiver to the stand you’re perched on. That will be the end of you. You might survive it, but that gleam, that reflection from your own eye, that is what breaks you. You realize your imperfections, you realize your unfamiliarity. You realize them because it’s true. You cannot bear to look at yourself anymore, and that is why, when you do look, right into the eyes of your reflection, you break.

Crumble into fine bits, and finally ashes. They, who you healed, who you soothed, who you led, who you were an ideal to, spare you a glance or two of pity, no more. That, to them, is the end of you. The End of an Era they claim to say, as if they ever knew you. But man’s greatest fault has been his ignorance. They do not realize.

You are broken, you cannot be fixed. But your greatest strength was in knowing you were broken. And so you let yourself ‘die’ in their eyes. But really, you were only waiting, biding your time. What is broken cannot be fixed, but you are beyond broke, you are back to ashes. And only when something is completely destroyed, can something new be created in its place.

And that’s what you’re set to do. Rise again, rise from the ashes. Slowly, but surely. Some might realize it’s you, most won’t, but it won’t matter. What will matter is you. Because, once you're born again, renewed in body and mind, you will be everything you ever wanted to be, even if it is nothing what is expected of you.

The phoenix, reborn, will not be of icy crystal. It will be full of fire within. It will not travel along paths laid down for it. It will soar through the open skies. Flying, resting, soaring again. Never staying. It will lead by example, with its failures being celebrated as much as its victories, its right to its own share of mistakes acknowledged, accepted. It will sing songs, that will soothe, and answer, but they will be songs its learned from its life. Songs about its failures maybe, but songs it is proud of, not about its hurt. Its tears may heal, but they wont be tears of its own wounds that are still open. It will be tears of joy, of victories past. Tears that will heal much quicker, much better.

It will soar, into the open skies, so high, above anyone, anything that can claim the sky. It will fly alone, but that will be out of choice, not necessity. It will be perfect, maybe not to me, maybe not to you, but when that phoenix next looks into its own reflection, it will not look away from itself, nor will it crumble when it meets the eye of its reflection. The fire within it will soar further. It will engulf the phoenix, the mirror, the reflection and the phoenix will further flourish.

It is then that you realize, there is no ice, no fire, no mirror, no reflection. No phoenix. There is only you. Then, and now.

Note: The idea for this post came to me more than a week ago, and weird(pleasant) coincidence that it was, I noticed that a friend of mine had written a poem, titled 'The Phoenix Arrives'. Be sure to check it out. Great piece of work.