The Dragon

There’s a dragon overhead.
It is an omen
Of change,
Though a creature of the past.
It soars and carves
Up the sky beside it.
A master.
Powerful.
All-seeing.
But in moments
It is diminished.
And I am unsure
As to whether it was ever
There.
Instead I conjure words
To explain that
Which I don’t understand.
And which no-one
Else will,
Though the claim is there.
And slowly the words,
Like the dragon,
Diminish.

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