Discover more from Age of Muses
It was upon a quiet night
As graying clouds raced past the moon.
A sage and pupil made their way
Into a deep and darkened wood.
Among a sea of silent pines,
They traveled the uncertain trail.
But after wandering the night,
They finally settled for rest.
They found a grot and set up camp
And made a fire to warm their limbs.
But as they rested by the flames
And thought about their trying day,
A mysterious glowing light
Appeared before the weary twain.
It shone unlike the sun or stars;
It had a strange and tempered hue.
But as the source of light remained
Unseen among the glistening fog,
The master and his pupil chose
To make their way towards the light.
To both the travelers’ surprise,
They came upon a phoenix nest.
The phoenix sat there purple-plumed
And covered in a coat of fire.
It lay among the glowing rocks
Where it had made what seemed its nest.
“What purpose has this beast inside
These woods, master,” the boy questioned.
“Does he not live among the sands
And scorching heat of desert climes?”
“Such birds are born in many worlds
And live out many lives,” said the sage.
“For, that bright bird dies many times—
Many times more than you’d believe.”
“How painful then,” the student said,
“To have to die so many times.”
The master turned towards the boy,
“It’s also reborn many times.”
“Its death is not well understood,
But even less is its rebirth.”
“For, one’s death is not what men fear,”
The master said, “They fear rebirth.”
But as the sage and student stood
Discoursing by the creature’s nest,
It suddenly opened its wings,
And flew into the starry sky.
Image by Dong Bi Hua