Following Morning: Phoenix

Treading like a hare on silk,
beauty stays within her time.
In her dying, silent and hushed,
writhing in darkness, mist and dust.
In their bodies, bronze to pale,
is the fading earth, old and frail.

Treading like a fox on sticks,
beauty distorts into time.
In her waking, dark with lust,
hissing in her own blood's worth.
In her body, shadowed to pale,
is her fading face, young yet frail.