My song is sad, for my mate flies alone,
impossibly far over the horizon,
I never see him, never hear him,
Never know he exists but for the dreams.
I see him, I feel him,
slick rub of silver-gray scales,
the gravity that compells him
The power in his claws and the grace in his tail...
the dignity held in his back, and the lightheartedness of his soul.
One dream, but no one-night-stand.
Such passion in a dream,
dramatic swells of brasses and violins
a sunrise so brilliantly peach I could cry
the light playfulness of his deepthroated laughter
A dream that lasted an hour but three years--
Chaos merging with the Lord of the Clouds
and our three offspring thrive--greener than their dam,
blacker than their sire--while their mother
has been human too long...
He calls for her, but she has forgotten how to fly...
Oh, to fly again with him...
My dear love, the Cloud Dragon!
Such passion he showed me, and, though I woke,
taken away from him, he left me a gift--
To wake with a name on one's tongue,
to ask when one knows that the dream is ending--
and have one's heart soar out of one's chest
to follow the dragon who mated in dreams
to speak the name my lips never before tasted--