To be resurrected,

never easy.

If we were to say that there are gods,

it was hard for a half-god,

for Jeus,

a saint,

imagine for us,

that we are just humans.

And I understand,

than being a phoenix,

it’s hard.



Just as it is hard,

Being lions.

I understand that to recover,

from bad times,

it’s complicated.

It is not so obvious,

rise again.

I got tired,

of this distracted life


as if you weren’t free,

as if you didn’t have the freedom to choose.

As if it were someone else,

to decide for me.

I’m tired,

I no longer feel the strength …

I almost feel dead.

But it is from this death,

that rises again,

like a phoenix.

It is almost trivial to say it,


If you live without what you want,

as you want…

What do we live to do?

You are wondering

the purpose of a life,

become so

damn empty.

And I want to rise again.

I am noticing, however,

than to do it

in a shining way,

with all the fire,

it will be a task

very tiring.

Italian version: https://loscrittorevolante.com/2021/06/30/poesiafenice/




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