The molten metal of new words
Scalds my hands as unique ideas are born.
Pouring forth in a burning avalanche,
Sparks hit the paper,
Turning it into the ashes

From which a phoenix of unearthly beauty arises.



The fire is quickly drowned out,
Its flames diminished as maligners do their work.
The dragons lynch power from my words,
Drenching sweet ideas in bitter criticisms.



I take my bloodied beauty back again,
Cradle it softly in my arms,
Survey its wounds and wipe its tears away.
With gentle hands, I do my best to mend
What’s left of my inspired creation,
All the time seething at what they have done.



Once more I take up my noble sword,
Again, on renewed wings, I prepare to fly
Across harsh deserts and frozen wastelands,
Straight into the mouths of the foul beasts.



A second time I am attacked
With brutal force, with claws and teeth.
Those hellish creatures with blood red eyes,
Terrible demons of the night.



They fight to mangle, seek to kill.
They fight to bend my iron will.
But to no avail for when smoke clears,
Only two remain alive.
With triumphant shouts and dragons slain,
I take my lovely words and ride.



Those unattached heads lay on the ground.
Their bodies sleep, not far away,
In deep maroon puddles that turn to floods.
Forever more they shall remain,
Those evil creatures with dark intentions,
Slaughtered by the one they taught,
The student they thought would stay
To help them defeat other knights on other quests.
They were wrong.