I’m more among the ash heaps,
Rather than the millionaires;
I am not a Fitzgerald hero,
Though there’s a romance locked inside of me.
Let me be the piles of ash the destitute must live with,
That is much my destiny as anything else;
I will be the soot pervading the land,
The quotidian nuisance.
If I am the ash then it explains the phoenix
Perched on my shoulders,
Massive, protecting, combusting;
I am the phoenix ash.
If this is all I am, that’s enough,
The phoenix within and without
Destroys me, rebuilds me, destroys me
Forever on, until I’m dust