The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Red Dragon

Deep in depths of souls
Below the darkest veils
Behind lost secret gates
In chambers of our veins
Dim flicker can be seen
Candles ends celebration
Fading within a shadow
As awaiting illumination
Home of fire red dragon
In darkness of catacombs
He who holds our captive
Most our bloody wounds
Seldom are they released
To surface for true mend
As others reach to stroke
Extended a loving hand
Fearful have we become
In trusting another so free
Blindly walking the halls
So jaded the truth to see
Yet noble warriors we are
Each with private wound
Seeking place of serenity
Within a mothers' womb
Silent are these prisoners
Pining glorious resolution
Yet cries are heard within
For day of new absolution
Love will heal all lesions
If you only believe it will
Trusting this one divinity
There is not a healing pill
Red dragon breathes fire
Still do not fear his roar
He is merely a protector
Of the souls radiant core