On Dragons

Greed and gold are pretty words for shadows of ourselves,
Bound twixt dusty covers waiting long on dusty shelves.
Shrieking serpents steal your gems and fall by swords of knights,
And tongues of flame lick pages to make quickly dying lights.
But fire mars your shining coins and melts the marks of kings,
And the wind that blows down kingdoms is stirred up by ancient wings.
We are older than the menfolk and the sins that they decide,
We were born before the avarice that rots them from inside.
We were there when Earth was screaming in her loneliness and pain,
And when no more stars are gleaming, still then shall we remain.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s