Sir George, Elliot, Bruce Lee and that boy from The Waterhorse have all had to face dragons in their day. I am no exception.
A dragon of blue scales and sharp horns
spoke to me saying,
"Why didn't we do what we could have done
and why do men hide their hearts?"
He belched fire of liquid heat and
swung his thorny tail,
his kingdom of pale rocks adorned with
the sweat of the earth shook,
a tremble in its bones.
My knees were overly large and cumbersome,
my chest too proud,
I swallowed the last ounce of taste in my mouth,
braced my battered limbs against a shield of
beaten metal and dried paint,
"This is the very root of man's being and
so is the last place his courage allows him to look."
"Then I shall hunt him,
devour the ones he loves and
bury deep the bones of his children!"
burden of my soul,
your lonely crimson eye the thing I fear,
that which is bright and looks far,
the memories of your evil my forefathers bore,
your mighty wings heavy with their blood,
listen to my heart,
the pace of my skin so yellow under this heavy garment,
you bring me death,
death and the afterlife,
the shape of mine and all that is unsaid,
run you through,
run you through, Dragon,
When I threw the blade of my hard sword into his belly
it cut him like a cancer,
the dust of the cave floor raced before him
on the wave of his dying weight,
crashing mass of blue scales and sharp horns,
I said to him in the loss of my life,
"You shall live no more."