creating me [using words]

The Dragon

This dragon, Angst,
breathes fire
at, in, my belly
churning the waters
where I know things,
ripping my guts
with talons of destruction,
wanting to catch my courage
trying my self-knowing
with the whip of a tail
crashing my nous
from its steady rhythm
attempting to rob
the rare clarity
that guides me.
Smoky breath
impales my heart
with deadly force.
I am overcome,
cannot see through
smoke and tears,
I lunge, blind,
the dragon flies away
and sings me a song
to lull me back
into its lair.
I find a clear green pasture
with trees and water close
to sit and breathe
but it hunts me.
I hear it coming.
I try to run
but the sound of its flight
freezes my ice-blocked legs
while its hot breath
closes in, melting nothing
but the truth,
which trickles now away
dripping off me,
leaving my pores
like sweat.
I try to retract the drops
but they drip on,
draining me of myself
until I am as weary
as a desert-wanderer
slain with thirst.
I’ve nothing to fight the fire
save the pool puddled
pathetic at my feet.
I stare dejectedly down at it
and it shares with me my reflection
and I begin to know myself again,
though dimly, it shall be enough.


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creating me [using words]


creating me [using words]

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