The sage and pupil made their way
Along a snowy promontory.
With jagged ridges far below,
Stern crests and cornices above,
They trekked towards the dragon’s grot,
Which lay among the snowy crags.
But as they neared the creature’s den,
The boy began voicing his doubts.
“The people said that dragons are
Impossible to catch or slay.
“They said that they’re too quick—too lithe—
Too wise and powerful for men.”
The sage stood still, garbed in white robes,
“One truth can slay a thousand lies,”
The master said, “A thousand lies
Can’t kill even a single truth.”
The young boy listened as he watched
The dance of wraith-like mists snaking
Their way around each wintry crest,
Steep peak, and snowy precipice.
But led by sounds of dragon breath,
They trekked until they found the cave.
Each breath the dragon took rumbled
Like thunderstorms in autumn skies.
The mountains quaked, the summits shook;
Each stream and cold ravine trembled.
But breath by breath, they found the den:
The dragon lay there fast asleep.
Curled up and deeply…
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