thinking
sad
- “In the dour ages
Of drafty cells and draftier castles,
Of dragons breathing without the frame of fables,
Saint and king unfisted obstruction's knuckles
By no miracle or majestic means…” A Lesson in Vengeance, Plath, Sylvia.
To wage a war with brute destruction is grotesque, unsettling and fatal albeit staunch. To consolidate your land after devastation is an insane feat, a delusion— who could forgive? Only, it has been accomplished; by those of tremendous dexterity and manipulation.
The ash, that still burnt had settled thick as mountain snow across the city’s towers. It was choking, every breath a retch, lungs gasped for oxygen in the thick smog. Remains of flesh disintegrated, buildings collapsed on themselves and the air was bleak and grey. Devastation overwhelmed the golden city which was instantly demolished to dust. Bringing a dragon to war will always end with Fire and Blood.
But to look into those undiscerning eyes that are telling of great ventures and conquering. You know you cannot reign a dragon, they are no mount for the ailing. With their solemnity, they glide through the icy skies; formidable and forever companionless.
Mighty dragon, fearsome dragon, lonely dragon.
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