I was a mythical creature once.

I lived in a small picturesque town
next to a little hole of blue water.

I sang the sweetest songs.

Mortal man never heard the like before.
They wandered by to listen very often.

They say my feathers fairly sparkled
and if the sun lived closer he might outshine me.

There was darkness that the feathers covered.
No one could tell what destruction lurked beneath.

But I lived to sing that song.
Morning, noon and night. I put my heart in it.
I never faltered, but once

and I looked in the placid lake to see my own reflection.
The monster that looked back at me grinned
at my surprise.
The darkness laughed out loud.

And I did nothing but climb that tall live oak.
As close as I could get to the sun
and I built my nest with twigs.

I lined it with bits of color, silken scraps
to echo my plumage.
And I lined it with sweet-smelling spices
cinnamon and lavender and myrrh.

And then I sang my best last song
'til the suns rays came too, too close.

I kept singing til my last breath was ash
until the day that I will begin again.