The Enigma of the Phoenix

In tales of old, in fables grand, A creature rare, of beauty planned, A fiery bird, with golden plumes, Whose life cycle, a mystery consumes.

The Phoenix, born in fire bright, A symbol of renewal, life’s light, A legend woven in time, A bird whose name, forever chime.

Its feathers shine with hues of gold, Its eyes, the color of fire’s hold, Its beak, a gleam of purest light, A vision, to amaze with sight.

Its birth, a wondrous, sacred thing, From ashes, it takes flight with a sing, Its life cycle, a mystery rare, An enigma, that none can compare.

In its pyre, it meets its end, In a burst of flame, it ascends, But from the ashes, it will rise, Its life renewed, before our eyes.

The Phoenix, a bird of fire, A symbol of life, never to tire, A creature of legend and myth, Its life, a rare enigma, with.

In deserts far, in mountains wild, Its tales are told, from child to child, Its life, a cycle of rebirth, A rare bird, that brings us mirth.

In ancient times, its tales did spin, Of renewal, hope, and life to win, Its feathers, a symbol of might, A bird that brings the world delight.

Its life cycle, a mystery rare, An enigma, beyond compare, Its tales told in lands far and wide, A bird of fire, a source of pride.

So let us cherish this bird of fire, And honor its tales, of life, desire, For the Phoenix, a creature rare, Its life cycle, a mystery beyond compare.