nine lives
i. and the phoenix sang.

the ink of galaxies has affixed
fate, falling into will's single-mindedness.
across the skies, gods and god alike
calligraph the future—your future, that insufficient
mortal timespan, no more than a thought,
was ended before the conception
of the divine immortals.

the stars were pre-ordained; what you see
is no more than the past
of ten eons ago, an Eden teetering
upon the balance of yes and no—
and i, i who witnessed the death and birth
of utter nothingness within space,
i sang for the sundust and star-rings.

there was no right or wrong, no morality
except what mortality has superimposed
upon the will of fate. i have watched
the stars shear death from the moon;
all you serve is to brighten my plumage.