Dragons
In the midnight mists of long ago on a far-off mountainside there stood a wild oak wood…
in the wild, wet wood there great an oak;
beneath the oak there slept a cave and in that cave the mosses crept.
Beneath the moss there lay a stone, beneath the stone there lay an egg, and in that egg there was a crack.
From that crack there breathed a flame; from that flame there burst a fire,
and from that fire dragon came
Judith Nicholls
My Dragon
Dragons soar within our dreams
and in our hearts too
Some say they are but myth
but I know that isn't true
Dragons are as real
as real as you and me
because they live wherever I am
Open your eyes and see
My dragons aren't large and fierce
or small and barely seen
They soar on wings made up
of all my deepest dreams
Their fiery breath protects me
from all my fears and demons
They lift me up upon their backs
and take me through magic kingdoms
where all is good as it should be
and happiness is total
Where love and kindness are the rule
and everything is beautiful.
So, yes my friends, they are real
as real as you and me
and without the dragon
what a sad world this would be.
Just close your eyes and open your heart
and a dragon will hear you call
and take you to that magical place
that lives within us all.
-Maria, Darksbane Dragons
A Dragons' Home
Freedom comes when the mind is free
Free from work, free from reality,
The mind soars to new heights and places.
This is where we live.
Reality cannot comprehend us,
We go beyond the law of physics,
The impossible is possible
And knowledge is meaningless
Few people know of us,
Yet all are able to see us
We're in the books, in the art,
In buildings and other things.
Seek us, and you will find us,
Not in reality but in your heart.
-Unknown
Jeweled Dragons
Sunlit jewels, soaring through the air
The dawn light streaming through colored wings.
A rainbow given soul and animation,
Glowing with the fire of the ages.
They shimmer ruby, citrine, topaz--
Emerald, sapphire, amethyst and onyx.
The light and fire sing through their veins
And refract from their prismatic eyes.
Their hearts are aflame with love and knowledge;
Their minds shine with wisdon's brilliance.
Perfect jewels, flawless, without cloud--
They are the mirrors of our hopes and dreams.
These jewels shine with crystal clarity,
And in their shadows, our own light seems dim.
Yet, looking at these sunlit, jeweled rainbows
Within their shining eyes, we see ourselves.
-Amanda M. Hayes
Dragon Of Old
Dragon fierce and dragon bold,
dragon of the wisdom old.
Come ye to my fireside,
soft and silent as the tide.
Telling me of silver moonbeam rides,
high into the starlit sky.
With my love, my dragon, at my side.
Silver Storm Caller
Dream Dragon
Moon drenched wings of silver and white,
sweep through the heavens in the dark of night.
Spinning it's glorious web of delight,
where dreams big and small take flight.
It is the silver moon dragon
my love, my dream dragon.
Who calls to me from the reaches of the stars,
calling me home, tis' not very far.
Not with my love, my dream dragon at my side
To take me on my moonbeam ride.
Silver Storm Caller
Moon Dancer
Slow, senuous and silent,
I fly in ambience.
Moonlight reflecting off my midnight scales,
As I sing the Moon's sad tale.
Pale, beautiful moon,
Coming and going much too soon.
We are misunderstood, you and I,
And it's been so long, that we don't ask why.
My place is by your side in the dark;
Behind the clouds and sky, like a watermark.
We sing peacefully together our melancholy songs,
Of our memories that have kept us company for so long.
Midnight black except for my pearlescent eyes,
I fly with you and the stars that light up the night skies.
Until we are overshadowed by the pernicious Sun,
Let us enjoy our company and share our sadness with everyone.
-Quang Lai
Into the Wood
by Jane Yolen
Let us enter the wood
Take my hand
I feel your fear
rise on your palm,
a map beneath my fingers.
Can you decipher
the pulsing code
that beats at my wrist?
I do not need to see
Dragons
to know there are
Dragons here.
The back of my neck knows,
the skin of my inner thighs.
There, among the alders,
between twin beeches,
the gray-white pilasters
twined with wild grape,
stands a pavilion,
inferior Palladian in style.
Who sleeps on the antique couch?
I hear a thin scraping,
a belly through dead leaves,
a long, hollow good-bye,
thin, full of scales,
modal, descending sounds.
In the dark
there will be eyes
thick as starshine,
a galaxy of watchers
beneath the trailing vine
and trillium,
the red of heart’s blood
spills between rocks
to mark the path.
Do not, for God’s sake,
let go of my hand.
Do not, for God’s sake,
speak.
I know what is here
and what is not
and if we do not
name it aloud
it will do us no harm.
So the spells go,
So the tales go,
and I must believe it so.
