Rising From The Ashes

The bird was bright and dazzling, as if it were on fire -- bright as the sun itself. 

But the bird was not happy, and the unhappier the bird became, the more its feathers grew dull.  Men were always trying to trap it, they wanted that fire for themselves.  Men stole the bird's feathers, the bird's fire and light.  The bird wanted to bring joy and happiness to those around him, however the bird became very weak and that fiery light burned out. 

So the bird flew and flew until it grew tired and older, but it was flying freely, staying away from any human in sight.  Because the world became so weary, the bird had lost most of its strength and it's colors had turned to brown. 

On the bird flew, growing more and more tired and very sick, but the bird started to stop here and there to rest, collecting leaves and bark.  After collecting all of the leaves up upon a tree far away, the bird took its last bit of strength to call onto the sun, "make me stronger again!"

And once again, the beautiful fiery rays of red and gold glowed around the bird once more.  It stilled winds and drew power from the animals around him. 

Then there was a flash of light!  The leaves burned, the tree burned, everything burned but the bird.  All that was left around the bird was ash.  And on from the ashes he flew above again.

Every few years when the Phoenix would grow tired or sick, he would fly away and take a rest upon a tree, asking the sun to help him grow stronger again.  And every time, the Phoenix rises above the ashes.

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I've been waking up every morning with a smile on my face -- back to myself again.