
A phoenix from the flames... I will rise.
WRITE IT DOWN!
That's a challenge to you. To me. Let's get back to it.
I feel like a taughtly drawn arrow yearning to fly and find its mark!
But if I am an arrow, my smith has left a fletch askew. So sharpened is my point! So straight the shaft! But this fletch vexes me... How can I fly straight and true with a fletch askew? Yet still I am drawn taught and eager to soar, rising and falling with the archer's breath as the mists swirl and slowly dissipate before us. waiting... waiting... not so patiently for freedom.