Streams of complete, immigrant wisdom paid the greater part of his debt to the nascent birth of a generation. He reclaimed the accident of circumstance with musing poetry and the wonts of a teacher, in midnight moons and shadowy whispers of common invocation. He found the poles of near and far, between the age of innocence and the labor of the ancients; his students soared, flew in easy enchantments of air sorcery. A dragon and his underlings in sated castes of flight from the gardens of peace, rose blush unto the mountains of obsidian shadow.
He taught in perfect coincidence to the wind, the gentle currents of forever and a second, in convicted dragon sense and glimmers of cherry blossom rain. The dragon studied the students and in turn they challenged the skies with awkward wings and soaring souls. In this endeavor he found hope, hope for the legend of the dragon and the fast bidden sun alight by distant vistas.
A monument to the advent of reason, renaissance and eternity, the old dragon discovered peace and covenants of respite with the rise and fall of a breath, with the eyes of a babe borne by the frayed edge of an immortal dream.
submitted at 9:01am
5 October 2010