by McKenna Swan

 

I’m calling upon a dragon on a night such as this; a night filled with silence, ready to be filled with your magnificence, o’ winged beast. Dragons, they are the teachers from my childhood, whispering their wisdom into my underdeveloped ears when my father’s back was turned, instructing me to become my best self from the moment I chose to love them. I saw past their flawed portrayals in archaic fairy tales, and in turn, saw all the lessons they had the capacity to teach. Ancient spirits from both the East and West are circling about, itching to show their skills in a display of scales. From the Occidentals: an emblem of courage, ferocity, and a persistent reminder to set your soul ablaze. From the Orientals: a deep sense of indestructible serenity, benevolence, and the sensation of chilled waters washing over my weary body. They can be your guides, too, but only to those who choose to hear their misleading tongues.