The cooker says it is 11.33; the cooker says the same thing every day, and sometimes all day long.
After it caught on fire one day it began making funny noises; it's been making funny noises for so long that now no one pays it any mind, except strangers who won't go near it.
I've been thinking of making a post out of it and sticking it in the garden for the birds.
There are times, when I feel it's trying to say something, but when I ask it what, it just goes pfft, pfft.
Perhaps it needs rescuing in some way...
Well, here's a dragon love song to open up some doors and set things to a new level entirely…
Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay
Desert music, Arabian and mystical came floating over the cooling sands of the dunes as I was leaving my mind.
And leaving it I stepped through into another place that was as round as a pebble and as big as my eye, and so set my heart on keeping it forever. And grabbing it, I ran off fast as I could and made it halfway, where I was picked up and shook so that all the things in my pockets fell out and rolled across the floor.
As the birds were tweeting through the summer window their meadow content in song, the question of the moment, became raised up, and questioned the point: but what if the comma of the apostroph is missing, what do you do then?
Oh, small are the minds of the unbelievers, and blessed are their prey; amen.
Image by composita from Pixabay
Now, in the land of the unbelievers there was a great treasure that was hidden so amazingly, that no one could find it no matter how hard they looked. And it was as if their sight was dull, and their hands were weak.
The bishop, looking up at a sudden gust of wind that was blowing in through his window, found his knees were weak all of a sudden, and so pulling a hidden aspirin from out of his secret stash, he swallowed it, and blessed himself all over.
A creatures dress the size of comfort and glowing in the wind was selling advertisements for all to see and making marionettes go giddly boom tiddly doom all night long in the next room so that my spine was tingling, and all I could think of was: I shall send an appeasement letter to the landlord soon, I just know I shall. I must, if I am not to die here.
The rambunctious machine, that was not timid at all, and was rattling in the kitchen, could not hold a dragon’s song for nothing, and so let go at twenty three minutes to midnight with a giant belch, and a fart to boot.
Image by Susann Mielke from Pixabay
In all the strange, much laughter was heard, echoing and pierced and sighing something that sounded like: doom; doom, with me thinking that I really should have stuck it in the garden for the birds, that thing that goes: pfft, pfft.
I was the lost and alone that needed saving where the cool beer flowed, and the whisky was free. I was the soul saved oh so slow. And I wasn’t fooling.
Going down to the newsagents in the morning for a beer and a sandwich, I noticed that the dog was off the leash and sniffing all around, and looking as if it was on a mission. Mary Jane I called her, for she was always off on a mission, and it always seemed to happen when I took her out for her mission.
Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay
The mission statement of this is perfect, and so be it. This is called: a dragon love song, and it’s not for the faint-hearted, I can tell you…
And of all the treasures that can be found, none is greater than the one you have that is closer to you than close can be.
And how close is this?
It is as close as the dragon’s breath that breathes in your heart. And as far away as the concepts you create so constantly. It is the thing you fear, and the constant you love.
The warrior in us can see this in all colours of the rainbow, and every blessing of the song, where our truth speaks to us to let itself be known.
Long is the night that besets us, and short is the day we live, if we do not have at least one dragon love song in our hearts…
Image by cocoparisienne from Pixabay
Images from Pixabay
