Born from the dead

From closed eyes

From the glittering ashes of demise

A life ends and another begins

The cycle is eternal, it never ends

Soaring above seas, its eyes twinkling with the fiery glow of immortality

But like all things terrifying and  beautiful when they reach life's edge

It reposes in Death's gentle arms

 And rests its weathered, blistered wings upon his iridescent purple cloak

Struggle, there is none

There's merely the serene presence of its once delicate , yet formidable soul  

Ethereal, however gruesomely hellish form

It utters its farewells to the dainty world it knew

To the sun

To the sea

To the sky that bore it

Ready to experience life all over again with all its glorious chaos and misery.