Death rested on the sun-baked plain. Phoenix- the rebirth of life, as wizened as time itself, slept amid the ash. Eyes, like ember: two fiery pools, bore through the desert. Profoundly he watched, alive in chaos. He rose, feathers caught the harsh sunlight. ‘Dasein,’ he thought. His heart weighed on existence. Every beat echoed through the ages, growing faint, urgent. He ruffled his golden plumes, versatile in wisdom. An anomaly in the mundane. He saw his reflection in a parched stream. His own mortality stared back. Unsettled, yet accepting. The phoenix spread his wings and danced with life, death, and the desert wind.