An autobiography of the Fierce Dragoness
I awoke at the time when the small crescent of a moon was high and far away. When it disappeared I removed my body from a soft bed. I can not sleep and I will write more to tell you about a magnificent world that had a purpose but was lost when the purpose was lost.
I drag this old skin, still with a glimmer of its pearl radiance but old nonetheless, out to view the enormity of space. With the coming of dawn only a few stars show their light to remind me of mountain top views.
Once upon a time my sweetheart had stored a full talking bright yellow moon just above that ridge over there to show that his heart would always be shining for me.
He was the last of three true loves. Tonight my perception of what has passed is dull. In this time of awaiting the morn, I can not have confidence that what once appeared to be three was not truly one. Already I have written and stored away the stories of my heroes, of my worth to my society, of my family long gone. They will follow this farewell note. You can be the judge.
You can be the judge of my family’s worth to your civilization. You will have the story as it was told to me. My favored grandmam had no doubts and led me to believe that my mission was true.
There is no longer any of my breed to give me support. No one any longer believes in dragons. At one time I would have flipped my tail at you and burbulled out to you, “If you don’t believe in dragons, it is curiously true, we can do our firey deeds and not believe in you.”
I finish my cup of chocolate, one of the better gifts to come from the pale white civilization, and return to my soft cushion, one of the worst benefits. And before you read my history of what we once were and what we once were to you, I will leave you with my final reminder.
What is not believed in will disappear.
You are invited to take a walk with me on this kaleidoscopic tour of Life and living.
I'll let you know when more has been added. It won't be often. Although lots more could be told, I'll slow down soon and let Myrt-Ty-Ky-Ly tell her story.
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