Here is the dragon,
embodiment of confusion,
fear's friend and reward.
It flies on nothingness,
the void between even
the smallest particles
where our minds can
find footing to leap;
it hovers and wheels in the
waiting space that,
while we have sense, we try
all our lives to fill.
We cannot see the dragon,
we can barely imagine it,
but here it is,
flapping, indignant
at our memory trove,
so infuriatingly simple,
and our invasion
of the future, carrying
our insistent hopes.
We confound the dragon,
whiffing its sulphur,
and still laughing;
sensing the dragon,
its baleful eyes and utterly
disruptive power,
and still living,
demanding a stake,
assuming and asserting it.
"What of it," we say,
ready enough for the day
when the tangible is over
and the fight against the dragon
is in the void itself, in the
space between things,
where the dragon has
no more power than a soul
and the fight is fair.
~~~~~~~~~~
Douglas Logan
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