Dragons Never Die

Dragons never die.
They must be slain again and again,
somehow rising from their bloody ashes
like a dark phoenix,

their talons sharp and wounding,
with an uncanny knack
of discovering your weakest moment
like murderers in the night,

Dragons never die,
but with each slaying, they weaken,
their sureness and power lessen,
their fearsome continence fails

while you, the unwilling warrior
grow stronger, more diligent,
always waiting and and alert
with your sword at ready, because

dragons never die.

About this poem

We rarely kill our demons. We only beat them into submission for a while.

The picture was taken in London.

Tom