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"And from the ashes a Phoenix rose, with wings made of gold

it gently touched me, a touch of relief. I was ready to start a new circle,

hoping it would never come to an end.

"Never to late for hope" - the grey ice melted - slowly..."

Spring

Where is my world,

The beginning of my life bound,

Surrounded by light,

Wandering aimlessly around.

Hearing voices calling my name,

While I hover, world's a dark stain.

Where is summertime?

I'm longing for its warmth,

Far too long I shivered

In winter's icy force.

Clouds are above me,

Mild air caresses my lungs,

I let myself drift, waiting for spring sun.

Soft grass - but it hurts to walk over it,

Pointed stings - running between I stick

Brooks are roaring, the water blood red.

Please let me drink, but I can't, I'm dead.

...Souls are screaming, mothers and sons

Are slaughtering themselves,

Am I teaching a dream...