As the stars shoot across the sky.
We sit quietly observing it all.
Unfolding as predicted. So they say.
We never really truly remember if it should have gone this way.
Crumbling to ruin. To rise again.
Phoenix out of ashes. Everynight.
Every. Single. Night.
Out of the ashes he will rise.
Shooting stars fall. Galaxies collide. Dreams shatter.
The phoenix will rise.