The Dragon is a beautiful soul.
Gracefully arcing and curving,
Flexuous though ample.
Her shining scales glisten;
A thousand eyes.
Mimicking the unrefined
Wildness of the great orb,
Staring into mine.
Although I am the Knight,
Considered man in all virtues
Simply due to the metal foil
That I adorn,
I feel like a chicken.
Ready for the Sunday roast.
Why do I feel so ridiculous,
As I approach the Dragon?
She is hypnotic,
An anodyne for the wounds
Etched by life across my heart.
The fire she breathes so naturally
Are like her words,
Made just to inspire my mind,
Made just to mesmerize my soul,
Made just to take my heart.
My peers;
The local, uneducated
In life, peasants,
Do they not know the beauty of the Dragon,
That I can see?
Why should I listen,
And simply insert my sword -
Her flesh becoming mine
And mine hers
- So quickly?
Time has made us linked,
Forever soul mates.
Inseparable.
Indissoluble.
Indivisible.
That is what we have become,
The Dragon and the Knight.
