Inside

Something in loss changes you.
Something in that consumes you with a fire you cannot see.
And you always rise.
You always do rise.
But you never come back the same, and they don’t tell you that part.
You never rise from those sorts of ashes the same bird.
Something in the fire twists the elements all around.
A sort of alchemy of the soul, and all that made you someone else is gone.
Those things that make you willing to be weak again are soldered away.
Those things that make you feel free and immortal are smelted out.
And what’s left, is all you have to make new wings.