Atop the cliff it is mostly dark. I am standing at the edge. I can see clearly what’s happening even though there is no moon. There are fires far off in the distance rising up from the horizon. Just this one thought has forever been branded to my mind this one moment in time. There’s a great black bird up above. A blue shadow engulfs him. Its beak is open as if it’s screaming. His feathers are not just black but like very dark granite. His wings outstretched arching backwards. In the center of his chest is a red crystal or ruby of some type, it’s sparkling in the aura surrounding this great creature. On the ground running along the cliff is a silver river with a small wooden bridge almost out of my sight. I can barely make out a man on the bridge. He is in an earthly robe with an old stick in his hand. I I... I think he’s chanting something.... cant quite tell what, but there is that same light around this mans stick there is not much in front of him he seems to be in front of or maybe the figure head of the forest. yes he is like a single entity emerging from a whirlwind of nature his energy is strong his very essence releases the power of the forest that encloses him the forest that is him he is reaching out to this beast in the air. He doesn’t have aggression to it but he must he needs him. This bird knows it he is afraid but he knows what must be done. This bird is more than a bird he is the sacred bird He is in somewhat the likeness of a crow, the messenger of the afterlife bringer of souls this bird knows what he must do as does what is his name yes his name I can hear he shall not say it I cant say he says no names this is not his way. This man has a mission he must come back he’s been away to long, he moves he looks up his eyes they stare straight into to me I can feel as he does. I look from his eyes are a gyroscope of his thoughts at first they look vague all just blues blacks solid power me to him, but slowed down I can see. The now silver-blue aura surrounding surround my crow has grasped to this man its motion speeds the sky changes there are now stars the fires are dimming slowly the darkness fades and the black turns to blue. The man is moving into the crow as the sky moves. They are turning from a tornado of silky moving quickly to a fiery red and a form is slowly born from this chaos. A new bird emerges his feathers are that of fire and he floats above a quiet perfectly circle lake. He is surrounded by short summer grass the sun is very bright, everything but this bird is engulfed in light. The sun it burns bright as it would after a hundred years of fighting and finally dawn. No more rain. No more war just dawn
The birds form molds almost to a man with wings but his face is not man it is bird. Its feathers are fire. And at last it looks into me. His eyes are not fire his eye it is kind. He looks with just one glance and then I know. I know his name now He wants to be known as The phoenix the bird born of fire. At last he has rejoined us and is ready to lead the way.