At 50 paces they unfurl their gossamer wings
and thrash to birth a thunder storm.
Then they ride the lightning and the rain and the fury,
on and on, until the dawn.
Nor are Dragons afraid to cry,
their tears are yellow fractal lights…
that mesmerize and hypnotize and
seduce with a strange delight.
Dragons live in worlds we cannot see,
great lava liquid eyes windows to tomorrow.
And if you meet that gaze – then one of these days – you’ll hear:
“I have something i think you ought to borrow…”
Dragons are born of air, fire and magic.
I’m told there’s water and earth in their too.
And their wisdom is equal parts insight and nonsense.
But which is which? And which one is true?
In a maze of mirrors – waiting for dinner –
the coiled snake skin emperor resides.
No mirror can catch him, and no human eye can match him,
and he whispers: “I think you’re ready to be taken for a ride!”
© Brendan O’Shea 2015.