Ouroboros

A Poem by charlie

you could say he got stuck in a rut...

He thought he found love in the ashen grey scales of a dragon slain. Well, he didn’t just think it, he felt it for it felt so real. So free. So very warm, and he burned with it for all to see... This love - this delicate intensity.

And he was a believer. An apostle to the new found madness which had blessed his existence to a glowing core. He felt beautifully, achingly, alive. He felt, at last, that he had a soul and it grew so very full; it was haunting. Irrepressibly haunting...as storms in the sun, forever blooming angels in his heart.

And the angels sang emotions most sublime, most enchanting. There was peace; there was longing. There were manifold empathies and cities of confused relief, but most of all: there was love. Love of music, love of words, love of love - and it was real. He felt it.

He felt it so strongly inside himself that he couldn’t keep it in,.. couldn’t keep it down. He couldn’t control this love he found and it grew with such remarkable wings as to rupture that place from where God had borrowed the bone for Eve... Lightning lashed the sulphur plumes which thundered with an Olympic scowl; the earth shook beneath a reddened moon...

And as the smoke and dust finally settled in that cave once more, he thought he found love in the ashen grey scales of a dragon slain. Well, he didn’t just think it, he felt it...