Her, the Dragon, and me

How can you not believe in magic?
Having lived very long in this world.
Traveled the roads.
Seen the sheer scope.
Screamed defiance into the storms.

Magic is everywhere.
Can you not see?
It is most easily found in the arms of a woman.
Those beautiful creatures that hold our souls in their hands.
We are un-tempered without their union.

But there is a danger.
They can crush the soul.
They can kill the man within.
Or they can lift him to heights unimagined.
Those whose peers have caused them to believe they have no power.

No power indeed.

What power, ask you?
Only the power of creation.
Only the power of life.
Just that would be enough.
But there is even more.

One such creature holds my destiny.
Magic. She is magic, defined and uncontained.
Quieting my soul.
Stirring my dreams.
Taking the pain away.

Filling the gaps.
Plugging the holes.
Moderating the strength.
Making life bearable.
Showing me the magic.

Yet she does not truly know me.
Even after all this time.
Does not really understand.
The dark-side of the man.
The torment in my soul.

The yearnings of my heart.
The strength.
The lust.
The urge.
The power.

The requirements of my soul.
The open road, The Dragon and me.
Riding into the storm.
The overwhelming lust for life.
This devastating need to see.

For her, what do I feel?
It is way too sexual for just love.
It is a little too quiet for simple lust.
It is magic.
There is no other word.

The storm and the woman.
The are the same, and they are magic.
They can bring life to the world.
Or death to the soul.
Equally beautiful, equally terrifying, in either role.

My destiny is open.
My life is free.
But still She has the power.
What will we make of it?
Her, The Dragon, and me?

Daniel Meyer

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