November 3, 2020. 11:47pm.
Jackson’s Back Porch
I was sitting outside.
I noticed how clear night sky was – I couldn’t recall the last time I saw these Dallas constellations so bright. The level of vivid clarity was… alarming. The sky as black and clear as obsidian. As for the moon, she was waning; but only slightly. It’s her first week on bedrest after bequeathing her full bright progeny just a few nights ago.
Ten minutes later, after these crisp clear skies, there came the most peculiar puffs of cloud. A single solitary scattered grouping of little clouds, low and floating directly underneath the moon, just several hundred yards above my head. They weren’t large and puffy – it was more like a single layer of mini-marshmallows, spread on a bake-sheet all crammed together. From my vantage point, it struck me as a pixelated smeared canvas. It was the oddest, most random grouping of clouds – I even took a picture of it on my phone.
I grabbed my guitar and let my soul sing. And thats when a (your?) dragon suddenly appeared in the arrangement.
Yes, a dragon.
And as I played, the dragon sang about you. You as fire and storm, dragon and whirlwind. I was singing (worshipping?) from my soul about how you completely burn my Ego to the ground. You burn me. All of my facades and fakes – I just can’t do any of these with you. Any covering, hiding, double-living, manipulating, face-saving, half-truths, untruths, or anything other than truth.
It hurts. It Burns.
And this is what I’m learning: That of course it hurts. In the best way possible. Because, I am a wounded and disarrayed man with a deeply wounded past which has left me (until recently) paralyzed, emasculated, and an empty shell of my former hopes and dreams. And your dragon fire strips away every attempt of shrouding that truth or keeping any of it hidden. Your fire has completely consumed me, and destroyed me (that is, my Ego).
Your anger, your wrath, your cold rejection… your combativeness…. your walls, your deflections, redirections and reverse engineering of your opponents brain… you go for the jugular, revel in the kill, pleasure yourself in the pain of your opponent, locking eyes with them as they feel your fire and as you watch them burn.
And then, He spoke to you.
MY OH MY….
SUCH A STRONG DRAGON…
BUT…. I WONDER…
IF THIS DRAGON COULD TALK (WHICH SHE CAN)…
AND IF THIS DRAGON FELT LIKE ANSWERING (WHICH SHE DOESN’T)…
LET’S TALK MORE ABOUT THE PLEASURE THIS GIVES YOU, DRAGON.
LET’S TALK ABOUT THAT…. IF YOU DARE.
IT FEELS SO GOOD TO YOU,
DOESN’T IT,
TO HURT THOSE WHO HURT YOU?
OH YES….IT DOES.
TELL ME…
WHY ARE YOU SO ANGRY?
COME, CHILD – TELL ME YOUR SORROWS.
FOR IT IS THE FATHER OF DRAGONS
WHO NOW SPEAKS.
Copyright © 2020 by Charles B. Young.
All rights reserved.
