Trapped.

     I am snared,

forever burning.
The very feathers

circling my throat
tingle with flame.
Embers shiver

as they drip
down my back.

     I am ashes.

There are hands,
with want to touch,

the desperate
feverish mortals
seeking forever,

scrabble about,
thieving my eternity.

But I do not hold
the grail they seek.

I am no fountain
for life and for living.

     I am an undead curse,

ringed with flame.
My talons are pitch
and empty as coal.

The pool of my eye has
the haze of raw steam.

     I did not choose.

I was a spark and
no new-born flicker
shall birth from my

flank. I will never put
tinder and flint to my

breast, never pull forth
a struggling bairn.

     I am barren.

Never will the scorch
spread further than
my soul. The swoop

of my neck is the
tongue of the flames.

     I am bound in this burning.

The smoke fills my lungs,
blacken and sear.

     I cough as I choke,

my skin catches light.
Cracks.

     I am dying.

Everything flames,
spirals within.

     I am free,

roasting to pieces,
crumble to dust.

     I am burning,

beaten wings
an inferno.

     I am free.

Inhale the ashes.

     I am reborn.


Again.


Trapped.