FengHuang

Painted wings on skies,
canvas the key to creation.
Sun seen in its eyes,
grace, justice for its nation.
Wings spread, light blinds in the rise.

In its flight it calls,
a tune as gentle as clouds.
Hurt banished by walls,
flees from the scrimmaging crowds.
Soaring, as the kingdom falls.

An new era starts,
carried by its golden wings.
described by the arts,
from ashes a young springs.
Balance it seeks, combined hearts.

Justice seems to seek,
this bird, so tranquill and fine.
See in its mystique,
peacock feathers, a small shrine.
Sounds of flutes, soft, always meek.

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