PAINTING WITH WORDS POETRY: Dying Fire.
The night cool air gently fell down upon the land
releasing vapors to rise in the twilight hour.
Like that of a smoldering dragon
these puffy clouds of mist lingered
in the hallows of the low rising hills
and moved as the land dragon slept.
This old dragon has seen her days…
her scales are all frail, cracked or eaten away
by her recent infestation of parasites.
She has been the creatures host for a long, long time now
and can no longer keep up the pace.
The pest have removed her armor and exposed her skin.
This rather drab brown dragon once wore
beautiful forest of trees and shrubs down her back.
Her skin was subtle and full of clean fresh fluid
pumping life throughout her existence.
Others settled upon this host with great respect
and this dragon breathed red and yellow fire
and flew through the stars
injecting colors of blue and green in her coat.
Still, the parasites persists with no regard.
Soon these old bones will be gone
and for the parasites….there will be no host…
no host…no where to survive and thrive.
All will be in spirit only!
Will these parasites every change
or mutate to a more giving way?
We can only pray and recognize the parasite within ourselves.
Poem from the collection of "PAINTING WITH WORDS POETRY.