The Bard and The Dragon

The Bard and The Dragon

 

Such travels, that natural waste

Through beauty clear and fluid.

Don’t fret or fumble, as the mother

She is tending to it.

Bestowed. Do tell to whom for the tulip’s bell.

As stone stands fast and silt does sift, the current is part

Through land, the rift.

Speak, fair bard, your time draws near clouded and thick, for all is well

Behind fell brush.

The moments too, dare to see

Withstand for long the persistent drops.

I write for mercy and comfort.

The distant cries of warriors and patrons, as long

As the dragon’s game.

The air �" is thick, dirt soil and filth

Labors god’s toil.

Too long are we that bide and worry.

Love seemingly clear, alas do harm

Quiet, like the breaths of the willow, does reach thee.

The man’s tender ears, ‘who is that?’ he calls

Too frightened to see near.

A picnic of uncial proportion to sate the bard’s fair hunger

His crime too small for law and plunder.

Doth tree does bard now sit?

Awaited, the sounds of rustle and breeze

Of eons past and present, as future

Told no more, my view �" the bard

That rendered his crescent.

As slow as growth, as large as earth.

In all that shines from him, the calls the song that fear

A laugh, that’s all, does bard sit and call.

Inquiring to change that auspicious peak,

For cross and sword is feeble a weapon.

Mind does thwart him still,

Free form and still my beauty, my fluid carry silt, stone and dream.

I sit for you now, the bard my ego

And listen and little to hand to you.