THE PHOENIX PROGRAM

FLAME OF THE PHOENIX

Created by Grace Kingsley

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Blessed is he, it is said, who hears the call of the phoenix. Fables report that this rare and lovely bird lives in Egypt, or again, Arabia, or perhaps India. She flies on wings which spread wide as an eagle’s glowing red and gold, bright as the rising and setting sun The phoenix dwells alone, lost in her solitude, with a mate or children or companions. But fortunate people have been drawn to her, hearing her call. Her long beak, they say, is penetrated with holes like a flute, and from these openings she pours forth rapturous sounds, each one filled wht a secret essence of life. To such melodies creatures listen entranced, sometimes growing agitated, unable to hold the pure tones which seem to pierce the heart. Each listener eventually grows still.

For hundreds of years the phoenix lives, and at every moment she is aware of the time of her death. As the day draws near, the phoenix gathers about her a huge nest of palm leaves and from its hollow center sings her song. Out of the depths of her heart ring the notes that sing of death, pure and clear. Her body trembles as the melody sings forth. All who are about draw near. Some watch and grieve, some faint as the sounds swell in their own hearts. The nest begins to glow. The great bird fans her wings and flames sweep across the pyre and die into burning coals. As the coals, gleaming like jewels, finally turn to ash, a small rush of sound is heard. From the ash stir red and gold wings.

A small new phoenix rises and begins to sing.