Can't say if it's time or not.
But something is shattering

There's no sound at out
Yet can hear, something clattering.

Is it the sound of its bones?
Or is it the sound of sharp daggers?
Collected, down-deep in it's conscious.

What so ever it is,
It's denying to lift a limb,
It's refusing to breathe,
Or to die even.

Maybe, maybe it's time.
For him to turn into ashes,
Once again, it's time for a fire bath.
Once again, to recreate a new version,
Of the same Phoenix.

All I can do,
Is to pray.
Pray, hard to accomplish,
The holy fire-bath.
Pray harder, to get an easy me.