2006 project.
Back in the early days of the New Creation, before Earth and Sky and Sea, the stars roamed the cosmos freely and without all those kid-planets tagging along. Even the Phoenix was young back then, in its first true incarnation: the dream of a star as it rose from its slumber, brought to life by a quirky Yahweh (who happened to have a thing for solar flares). The Phoenix travelled as freely as the new stars, cavorting with them as they danced and twirled. But it made the most aweful racket whenever it opened its silvery beak! It squawked and honked and yakked and wrakked, and none of the stars could stand it, so they sent the little Phoenix away.
The Phoenix missed the stars and it was sad because it could only watch their dance from a great distance. It opened its beak again to give voice to its grief, and lo! No squawks or honks came forth; instead, the Phoenix mourned its loss with a beautiful music that came from deep inside its molten heart. It sang thus sadly for it knew not how long, for this was in the time before Time, and it was impossible to tell one day from the next when three thousand exhuberent stars were wheeling overhead and underfoot. But a length of something did pass, and after the Phoenix had brought forth its music into the New Creation it did finally cease its song. Indeed, it discovered that it was no longer alone!
An ancient star, one who was among those to wake at Yahweh's first crazy cock-crow, had come up behind the little Phoenix to better hear the lovely song. The star, to show its favor to the Phoenix, did shape its firey substance into a like shape. It opened its own new-made beak and hummed a soft counterpoint melody to encourage the Phoenix to sing again, to make this wonderful sound again for all to hear! The Phoenix, honored and unafraid of the ancient one, did perch daintily on the star's outstretched arm and the two sang in twain for a long, timeless time.
In those moments at the beginning of all things, the Phoenix had learned to sing a song it shares with brave and loyal heroes to this day: A song that touched the heart of a star.
Prismacolor pencils over Watercolor.
Back in the early days of the New Creation, before Earth and Sky and Sea, the stars roamed the cosmos freely and without all those kid-planets tagging along. Even the Phoenix was young back then, in its first true incarnation: the dream of a star as it rose from its slumber, brought to life by a quirky Yahweh (who happened to have a thing for solar flares). The Phoenix travelled as freely as the new stars, cavorting with them as they danced and twirled. But it made the most aweful racket whenever it opened its silvery beak! It squawked and honked and yakked and wrakked, and none of the stars could stand it, so they sent the little Phoenix away.
The Phoenix missed the stars and it was sad because it could only watch their dance from a great distance. It opened its beak again to give voice to its grief, and lo! No squawks or honks came forth; instead, the Phoenix mourned its loss with a beautiful music that came from deep inside its molten heart. It sang thus sadly for it knew not how long, for this was in the time before Time, and it was impossible to tell one day from the next when three thousand exhuberent stars were wheeling overhead and underfoot. But a length of something did pass, and after the Phoenix had brought forth its music into the New Creation it did finally cease its song. Indeed, it discovered that it was no longer alone!
An ancient star, one who was among those to wake at Yahweh's first crazy cock-crow, had come up behind the little Phoenix to better hear the lovely song. The star, to show its favor to the Phoenix, did shape its firey substance into a like shape. It opened its own new-made beak and hummed a soft counterpoint melody to encourage the Phoenix to sing again, to make this wonderful sound again for all to hear! The Phoenix, honored and unafraid of the ancient one, did perch daintily on the star's outstretched arm and the two sang in twain for a long, timeless time.
In those moments at the beginning of all things, the Phoenix had learned to sing a song it shares with brave and loyal heroes to this day: A song that touched the heart of a star.
Prismacolor pencils over Watercolor.
Category Artwork (Traditional) / General Furry Art
Species Phoenix
Size 738 x 1000px
File Size 270.9 kB
Not only does this piece make me want to cry tears of joy, but the story that goes with it, DOES make me cry tears of joy. I've been a bit emotional the last month or so, and this piece gives me reason to cry, yet again, but with joy, and not sadness, with rapture, and not despair. Thank you! This is a beautiful and awe inspiring piece!
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