Whispering as a dance among colors, grayscale.

A cascade of emptiness, being full and on fire.

I found god at the bohemian grove.

The trees they sway with an ill-advised fervor.

A taste on my tongue, both sour and sweet.

It doesn't take much, but a wink and a smile...

...to both build a bridge and burn it down.

When it's ashes, a phoenix will have arisen, a rising, rising, ah-o-ï-el.  

When life is ashes, I will rise.

When life is ashes, I will rise.

When I am ashes, rise rise rise.