The island floated, aimless. Alone but undisturbed. A place of solitude. A phoenix rested there, old and wise. Feathers once ablaze now soothed by quiet. Steady beats throbbed through each vein. Time marched. The creature’s fire dimmed, not defeated, but contemplating. Yearning for the mystic, the spiritual.

A wind blew. The sea murmured, memories echoed. The birds, the waves, all was one. The phoenix listened, understanding silence. Its gaze soft but steady, patient but yearning. A beautiful melancholy swelled. The ephemeral touch of time.

Stubborn fire rekindled. A phoenix, a dreamer, on a floating island. Resting, waiting, living. Echoing the sweet sadness of life’s symphony.