Above the Silver Sea,
The Phoenix spreads her wings
she weeps and cries aloud
for pain, grief and other things
      that she remembers, like
she lost count of her young
who from the nest had sprung,
leaving her, their flaming mother
though, perhaps to find another
who wouldn't burn them with her touch,

maybe hugs won't hurt as much.


She wept and wept
for there were none
there was no other mother
she was the only one


*So to steam turn her boiling tears
with them evaporate her fears
she stands on spindly legs
and fondly shades her speckled eggs

She sings to anyone who hears:

"Oh, I must be extinguished!
Love from cruelty cannot be distinguished!

I'll fly for Sol tomorrow;
there, on that star, I'll burn away my sorrow."