The Phoenix

Looking at the past.

Are my memories where I want to be?
Now, thinking back, so vividly I see
A time when I felt so helpless in the storm
I wasn't growing daily, so much as being reborn.

A phoenix borne from ashes, a phoenix dead by night
Dead before my wings grew, before I learned to fight.
Like Prometheus on the rock, there is where I lay.
Being reborn daily, to burn, wither and fade.