Dragon wings will always beat to the rythem of the heart, and so it was, that all around I heard the rythmic sound of my soul, and the resonance of the silence it disturbed. Far below, in the depths beneath, there gleamed a golden lake, and an island, 'pon which I came to rest.
One day, on dragons' wings I flew, 'cross deserts, and fields and the gentle face of the moon where the stars sang to the beat of my heart, and angels came to play. You were there, you always were, but 'midst the sound of the soul and the song of the stars I failed to hear your voice.
It was too loud.
It always is.
Your words slipped past me, and with them, so did you, my frail hands too weak to hold you near. Below the moon there lies a golden lake whos depths to which you plunged, the sound that followed, silent. So here I stand 'midst the stillness of stars and the sudden sadness of loosing a friend. My dragon is quiet, tucked away from the prying eyes of the moon, her lone tear falling to the depths below to create there an island, 'pon which I'll come to rest.
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