The Dragon’s Defeat



Before me stands the dragon,
Puffed up to loom large
In the morning sky,
Surrounded in thick gray smoke
That rises to cloud the sun
And obscure the landscape around us.

I stand unafraid because,
Despite the fearsome nature
Of this confrontation,
I am confident;
I wield the instruments
Of the dragon’s destruction.

The foul beast roars
And releases more smoke into the air,
Which already seethes from the bitter flavor
Of acrimony towards the world,
And of contempt for the natural beauty therein
That others find so easily.

The dragon speaks,
But the words are incoherent;
Such words contain no knowledge
And fill the air with echoes of chaos;
It is a cacophony that steals peace.

I take the measure of this dragon,
And ponder the weapons at my disposal
To do battle and wage war
And satiate the thirst for conflict.

I take up the sword of Reason
And the shield of Resolve
And prepare myself for the confrontation…
And yet, my inner voice
Speaks to me
From the wisdom of Heaven,
And I listen intently,
As the falcon who hears the falconer’s voice.

I sheathe my sword, hold firm my shield,
And advance slowly and steadily
To meet the dragon,
Whose very breath withers the field
With bitterness and pride.

Without a single sword stroke,
I defeat the beast, despite the roar
Of his unenlightened words,
By simply walking through the form
As though disbelieving an illusion
And dispelling shadows that were never there.

Without ever looking back,
I stride into the now-clear sky
And the peace that settles upon me,
As the echoes of the outraged dragon
Fade into the insignificance that is its destiny.

© 2004 by Robert E. Blackwell