No Hocus Pocus,
time’s to focus.
I’ve faced much dread,
dreams again shed.
~
And I’ll rise from the trash,
of once certainties ash.
There poetic ember burns.
Passion is as passion yearns.
~
A phoenix again will rise,
glowing to dry teary yes.
Where risen to a painted sky.
The muse is I.

~*~
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