Teh Ebil Snorlax
03-02-2010, 10:52 PM
Fear Not The Dragon
Fear not the wildflower king,
Mischief-maker though he may be.
His so called "faerie curses"
Are nought but joke and jest.
Life, lore and love are his languages,
He sings songs of passion and purpose
That only man could call curses.
Fear not the red-fleshed dragon,
The low-flying, regal, reptile queen.
She roars and snaps with bestial anger
And rightly so. She is angry, of course,
Her homestead, a creeping desert canyon,
Is invaded and infested with humans.
They stab her children and shout "Monsters!"
Surely they speak of themselves.
Fear not the cackling crone,
She is mad, not magical or malign.
The only inhuman fiends to be found
Are those who would float her.
It is a doctor she needs,
Not a burning stake erected in kindling.
No demons shall be scattered in the smoke,
They dwell in the watching crowd.
Fear not the fearsome fire giant,
Nor the ice totem, nor the rock golem.
They may be rough and terrifying
But they are still elemental.
Would you take a sword to the sea?
Would you wage war with the winds?
Offend them not, foolish one.
Their judgement is swift and decisive.
Fear not the end of days,
Though quickly it comes apace.
Man shall wane faster than the harvest moon.
But the rocs and other winged beasts,
And their allies, the various goblin races,
Are pillars of permanence.
The end of days is the end of man
For only he is so fickle as to count away the time.
Fear not the wildflower king,
Mischief-maker though he may be.
His so called "faerie curses"
Are nought but joke and jest.
Life, lore and love are his languages,
He sings songs of passion and purpose
That only man could call curses.
Fear not the red-fleshed dragon,
The low-flying, regal, reptile queen.
She roars and snaps with bestial anger
And rightly so. She is angry, of course,
Her homestead, a creeping desert canyon,
Is invaded and infested with humans.
They stab her children and shout "Monsters!"
Surely they speak of themselves.
Fear not the cackling crone,
She is mad, not magical or malign.
The only inhuman fiends to be found
Are those who would float her.
It is a doctor she needs,
Not a burning stake erected in kindling.
No demons shall be scattered in the smoke,
They dwell in the watching crowd.
Fear not the fearsome fire giant,
Nor the ice totem, nor the rock golem.
They may be rough and terrifying
But they are still elemental.
Would you take a sword to the sea?
Would you wage war with the winds?
Offend them not, foolish one.
Their judgement is swift and decisive.
Fear not the end of days,
Though quickly it comes apace.
Man shall wane faster than the harvest moon.
But the rocs and other winged beasts,
And their allies, the various goblin races,
Are pillars of permanence.
The end of days is the end of man
For only he is so fickle as to count away the time.