My mother is father of steel and of light,
my father is mother of storm and of flight.
Passionate lovers, aflame when they mate;
My mother will die if my father abate.
My heart is a sunrise, my plumage is fire,
flames are my lifeblood, a blaze my atire.
In the hearth of my mother I find my demise,
quenched and extinguished, once more to arise;
When the breath of my father stirrs me to life
from the ashen-grey dust that remains of his wife.
Old I am born and immortal I die;
from the corpse of my mother I soar to the sky.
Ancient and new-born, transformed but the same,
alone in my splendour, unmatched in acclaim.