Burning in the hallow of fire,
Priests chanting around the pyre,
Flowers adorning, covering the big attire,
Marking the end of life, or beginning of a satire?
Under the shadow of time, filled with life’s maze,
Recalling the animated video with a haze,
Helping in bringing out the new face,
For the eudaemonia of the next phase.
A phoenix born on that day,
Sparked by a matchstick from her tray,
Made her to sway, losing the fray,
And now, nothing could stop it from being mirthful and gay.