open eyes, close eyes

Blink.

Blink.

Awaken.

The sound of passing eyelids breaks leaves from their native branch, met with the faint reach of gray skies coming through the dense forest. Wind, altruistic in its gentle carry of the auburn, gossiped with the eye-shaped leaf as it fell.

“Open your eyes to the change,” nature calls as it descends in warmth.

“Open your eyes to the change,” the world asks of you, as it rises in heat.

“Open your eyes to the change,” you say when your hard work pleads with your growth in the mirror of self-doubt.

The autumn leaves sing of growth in their descent, twirling with their imperfections. If nature’s beauty, in her calm distress, can find worth, why then, we ask, can’t you?

why does the phoenix rise after the fall does it consider the option of ending it all breaking from flames in the eyes of peers choking on wells of water from tears why does the phoenix come back just to sit to make its presence like that of a stick does it know that its fire is fading to dark does it know that its passion seems that but a spark why does the phoenix revive in beauty setting fire to the eyes of those seeing it newly its wings of the sun floating in wind its talons of hell grounding in sin why does the phoenix forget why it fell the laughs and the mocks that wished it farewell does it forget the jeers that made it go black does it neglect the tears that never come back the phoenix will rise to claim the world as its own. the phoenix will sit to make itself known. the phoenix will revive to find passion in life. the phoenix will forget to burn in strife. the one who is the phoenix will set the world on fire.