Well soon

:-)))))))))))

...reborn from ashes...

Or sinking into them, Armando, who can tell? Dust in your feathers, embers in your eyes, flakes of soot in your hair. Strange days, strange nights.

...but she is ready to take off with her wings wide open, Steve... :)

That repeated myth, its wings weighed down by the usual metaphors. Feed all the Phoenix poems into an AI matrix and a good to excellent poem would emerge…

The soul? Where can we find it? Under our shoes, down in the dog mess. Yet it’s there. What can we do? What can we be? Family, love, kindness? They burn with us.

...an AI smile to you, Steve...

They burn within us.

...the end...

A nice idea and view through!

Great.