The Dragon lived in a warm, dark cave upon a mountain surrounded by a Swamp
Poets came seeking The Dragons knowledge; Warriors sought The Dragons defeat and a golden horde
Delivering pure wisdom and righteous wrath, The Mountain was only visited by the desperate or the daring
The Dragon only sought truth, but there was so little in the world, seeking took much time
So alone, from up high, The World was watched with curiosity and disdain and hopeful hopelessness

As The Dragon smoked one night, The Moon grew orange as did the whole sky, The Stars were outshined
Below The Earth was without a single shadow, The Sun could have been falling for all any knew
Across The Sky raced a beast of light and heat, the smell of brimstone, burning ember, smoking ash
Fire, The Dragon knew it well, Its gift to man and beast ages ago; No creature wielded fire like The Dragon
Wondering excitedly to itself, it took fast flight; Another beast of fire held promising possibilities

Is light truth, is truth hope, is hope fire, is fire passion, perhaps; Then The Dragon heard the notes
Singing as it burned, shattering darkness and silence alike; Mesmerizing in its molten glory
Wonder was the power, the curse, the demise of the doomed bird and it saw something wonderful
Approaching, off in the distance, silhouetted against the orange, was a flame, small, blue, green, white hot
Two great pairs of wings flapped held hovering for a great while; Shrewd curiosity, Deep wonder
Admiring, gazing, longing, each one burning to know what it was seeing

The Phoenix, peerless, passionate only desired to be touched, to be felt, to be embraced
The Dragon, lost, lonely, wished to engage, for knowledge, for truth, for company
Fire made song, which made a spectrum of feathers, beautiful to behold and to hear
A gentle claw reached out to feel the deceptive softness, a golden talon reached back in return
Ignited the claw withdrew, an anguished holler, darkness came over The Dragon

The Phoenix knew nothing of burning, for it inherently could never be scorched
Though pure, naïve, innocent The Phoenix understood the scream of pain, for it was no song
Guilty, confused, abandoned, The Phoenix fled burning the tips of The Stars as it bolted
Night became a black shroud blanketing The Earth once more; The Moon turned back to a pale pearl
The Wind was deafening as The Dragon plummeted to the ground singed and wincing, surrendering to the fall

The Water of The Swamp extinguished the burning claw; The Night had once again become cold and wet
Shamed, alone, The Dragon crawled up the cold mountain, back to solitude, back to a lonely vigil
Burned but not broken some truth had been found, but truth did not bring happiness
The Dragon possessed it, The Phoenix was it, understanding it beyond all others, those creatures of The Fire
Destined, tragically, to scorch one another; For wielding flame and being flame are not the same

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...