Gulp.

Silence.

He awaits the sacred geometry,

but is greeted by the purge.

Emptied.

Turned inside-out.

All is lost.

Violently vacated.

But then how come

a dragon comes sliding through

a nightmare too entrancing

to be terrifying.

There’s no slither.

Just a silent slide.

It slides, it slides.

On a silent ride.

There are two types of eternity.

Neither is cheap but one is free.

He just needs to discover

of what it’s free.

[National Poetry Month: Poem #18]