Phénix by Imagination's End

(Antioch, 6th Century)

I stand in a field of flowers,
the sun reflects from my head,
erect and proud I watch over all,
yet I am not to be worshipped.

On all sides the herd watches,
none too close nor too far away,
I cannot decide a simple thing,
whether I watch them or they watch me.

And as the days grow I stay young,
look to me as you would the sun,
someday I will part from here,
but by then you will not need me.

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