Oh what a trial is the sinful shaft,
The expulsion and eruption of the yang,
And the terrible yin stay...
It’s Springtime, and I am twitterpated!
when our dreams
have all headed
when the memories we held tight
against our chest
only remain as tattered
I became trapped in a pixilated universe—
a virtual reality, I invested in a world
of people I couldn’t see or touch, but
I’ve always been fascinated by wolves,
They have a quiet nobility to them,
Silent and wise rulers of the forest,
Eternally loyal, and acting in wisdom,
Unless they want you to see them,
All you’ll ever find are prints in the snow.
I’ve always been fascinated by dragons,
A symbol of sheer power stemming from nature,
Filled with a grace that inspires awe,
Acting beyond the primitive notions of good and evil,
But always working to something much more grand,
With wisdom that would dwarf the stars in the sky.
I’ve always been fascinated by deities,
From every myth and every legend,
The gods, goddesses and spirits that grace us,
That leave us so utterly amazed the memory is etched in us,
They leave their impressions through all history,
Because of their pure divine nature.
That is why, my friend, you’ll always fascinate me,
For you are a wolf,
And a goddess,
All taking one form,
You’re the best of humanity,
With the potential to reshape the world,
And to know you forever instills awe, inspiration,
There is legend written,
About that legendary egg of Draco,
“The hatchling shall take the form,
That represent’s the heart of whosoever hatches it.”
I’ve held such legend close to me,
For in my heart and mind,
Does a very Pendragon’s egg lie.
What form shall it take when it hatch?
Shall it be a being of the darkest horror?
With jagged talons to greedily clutch,
Anything that should fall in it’s gaze,
It’s hateful vision that looks upon the terrible world,
With vile glee,
And spews a black flame that destroys all in it’s path,
A flame that is fueled by sin and darkness,
And shall never cease burning the souls of men.
Or shall it take the holy form?
Will it fly upon feathered holy wings,
To observe all in it’s judgemental eye,
Observing all from the distant clouds,
Allowing no space for chaos,
Or human error,
Incinerating all that could err,
Out of a deap seated fear of darkness?
Or shall it be near formless,
Corrupted by the unfeeling Void?
A silhouette in Draco’s form,
One with an unceasing appetite,
Consuming all light and shadow in it’s path,
Leaving a warpath of sheer nothing,
Destroying everything and never satisfied?
I can only hope it may be taken,
And given a higher form,
Let it be beyond good and evil,
Let it be a beacon of knowledge and inspiration,
Let it be something that lives up to the lore,
As something of awe and beauty,
A sheer force of nature that stands through history,
And let the lines between it and I become indistinguishable.
But it is all potential,
And it is all left to you,
The egg is in your hands, world,
Just be warned, Creation,
You do reap what you sew.
I’d gladly pit myself against goblins,
To save a town’s populace.
My body is worth nothing to me,
I’d give it up just for the chance to save others.
And I’d return battered and bloody,
To a grateful town’s smiles.
I’d throw myself against Behemoths,
To save those in their warpath,
I’d drive a spear right in it’s heart,
And in doing so win people’s hearts,
I’d have all my broken limbs,
Tended by a hopeful women,
Utterly smitten with my selflessness,
And I’d give them all a smile that said,
I’d gladly do it again and again.
I’d charge against a Dragon,
Just for those shining grateful eyes,
I’d stab at it with justice and valor,
Never once even thinking of my safety,
I’d conquer the beast to save others,
And slay 1000 more,
For a hero’s work is never done,
And he never ceases earning admiration.
But there are no place for heroes today,
No dragons that need to be slain,
And for one who values himself as so little,
He has no place,
And earns no admiration,
So his mind turns to the dragon’s he’d gladly slay.
The dragon is a symbol of power,
Of majesty, beauty, of sheer awe,
The dragon is a beast on a whole other level,
With eyes that see into spirits and souls,
Wisdom that could cause a library to crumble,
A beast that is the idol of many,
One beyond good and evil,
It can be civilization’s salvation,
Or bring about it’s downfall.
But dragons, they are too rare,
And when one may fall prey to their baser urges,
It can be devastating,
For frustration and pressure can build,
Until they ignite into white hot flame,
In all the lore of dragons bringing down cities,
All were too distracted by the destruction to notice,
It was brandishing a rather large erection.
For even those of extreme power, wisdom, and majesty,
Are still susceptible to baser urges,
Dragons still get erections,
Dragons still need to fuck.
When clouds are stained by luminous ink,
And deprived of gales I cannot think,
You may then find me soon dead,
For on shadows and storms do I tread.
When light begins to fade away,
The deranged and depraved come out to play,
But dragons too Live in the night,
Their power been shunned by light.
And gales that slice through air,
Carry ancient knowledge here and there,
While pebbles, rocks, and earthen clods,
Are cast down for wind to trod.
And that where gale and shadow meet,
Cause lightning to crack at our feet,
But these furious bolts that make us run,
Are deranged dragons having a bit of fun.
Upon shadows and storms I do tread,
I do not live with souls so dead,
But those who are living art,
And carry shadow and bolt in their heart.
High upon a dusty shelf,
In a rarely perused curio shop,
Sits a stand,
Containing the last dragon egg.
The egg sold as a novelty one day,
As a plaything to a group of infants,
Which was slammed and battered around,
Until the children grew bored of it,
And tossed it to the bottom of the toy chest,
Not knowing the dragon inside witnessed it all.
It was sold in a yard sale one day,
And sold off for less than a nickle,
For it was valued that little,
And the new owners used it as a tool,
Using it to bash things and other things,
And when it’s owner was succesful enough,
It deemed his tool as worthless,
And threw it in the garbage,
Not knowing the dragon inside witnessed it all.
The dragon’s egg is once again in a curio shop,
Waiting for a new owner.
And that day that one see’s it’s potential,
And properly nurtures it,
The dragon will hatch,
Rewarding those who cared for it,
And punishing those who did not.
A blood red moon is a dark omen, a sign that the earth shall be scarred in a terrible way. And on this night of bloody sky, Queen Sarisha rose from her bed to personally end the long standing nation of Pravoka. For the first time in what seemed like years though, she felt something, something other than darkness. Her attendants dressed her for the battle ahead, but she was still lost in thought, plagued by the dream she had, the dream of Thanas. In her dream, she remembered all the times with him in garden, and how happy they were. One part that stuck with her in particular, was when they were talking about a war that was going on in the world, and how one general was completely merciless, attacking civilians instead of the military.Thanas was disgusted with the general’s behavior, saying that there was honor in being a soldier, and to harm innocents is a complete disgrace. He spoke of this with such passion, and it made the queen think, “What happened? Why go against something he so passionately believed in?”