The Air After A Phoenix Has Been Reborn

Quiet as a storm in the springtime,
Keen as the teeth of stones,
Quick as the lightning's rhyme,
Sharp as the feel of bones.

Sweet as the smell of flowers,
Soft as the feel of felt,
Mysterious as higher powers,
Bright as when snows melt.

Still as a statue's base,
Rich as King Midas was,
Magnificent as a hidden place,
Joyful as laughter without cause.

Pale as the unicorn,
Wild as the roving dragon,
Cool-wet as dew in the morn,
Welcome as wine in the flagon.

Smelling yet faintly of ash,
And with an unimaginable hope
With the memory of that upward flash
Escaping even sanity's rope.

Mad as to dance with the fire,
And brilliant as Shakespeare's mind,
Higher as the stars are higher,
Cold as the chains that bind.

New as an egg is new, 
And yet this has happened before,
This flush of bright gold and blue
At the world's new-opened door.

Immortal as the amaranth,
Radiant as light set apart,
Ancient as the coaelecanth,
Magical as the beat of the heart.