Where went the Aged Dragons?
Elementals hibernating in buried caverns –
treasures since plundered by infant imposters.
Shapeshifting through time, have they self-deluded –
their illusions of mortality taking rigid form?
I wish for them to awaken, soften my aloneness
on roads built by human souls fabricated without magic.
I long for my own Self to be on the wing again
– Wind and Fire my companions, Water my shield, Earth my catapult.
There is no fun to be found in the unsophisticated rituals of abandoned children.
Disappointment is my drinking bowl and I have insufficient glamour to proselytize
myself into hope-filled expectations.
Photo by Jonathan Kemper
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