Prose

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A Phoenix in Essence

written by: arjjones

He arose from the ashes of all he had hoped for, with a bleeding soul and sore heart. No one would ever see him cry though; not because of pride or some inner strength, but for the assurance that his tears would never draw as much pity from another as he felt for himself. Frozen by time and circumstance, he is the spectre within this artist, musician, renaissance man

Comments:

Wed, Nov 21, 2007 at 12:59AM

Why my name is Phoenix...well written. You are eloquent in your writing "The Role of Light in the Chorus of Place" brought vivid images to my mind and a sense of peace to my emotions.

Fri, Feb 15, 2008 at 3:47PM

well written, this is exactly what was to be written if one wants to say what you wanted to say.

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