Transmutation

So Write, says the phoenix in my chest. Write and melt your tears into worlds.
Should I even write, when the cry of the phoenix is muted by fire and ashes? I should burn myself in the crucible.

I pour all my tragedies and disappointments, my tears, into the crucible. Let it burn them into gold.
Goddess knows I have enough tears to feed a nation. So I pour them in, in, in.

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