Gleaming Gold
#15 of Poems
This poem is about the gold dragons. Their appearance is a mix of eastern and western dragons. Best known for their opulence and lust for the finest trappings they can find, they are also the keepers of history. Within their giant palaces are giant caverns filled with books and scrolls. All of history written down and copied. But they guard this knowledge jealously and rarely allow others to see it. Instead preferring to recite such knowledge orally whenever someone comes to them seeking answers. Obviously there are ulterior motives for them doing this.
They are also known for their ability which is known as Allure. They can coerce, manipulate, or outright force another person to do their will. Although gold dragons are rarely if ever so heavy handed. Often their influence is so subtle that in many places the thought of them even having an ability like Allure is thought to be laughable or a myth.
Although not everything is known about them there is one thing every dragon knows. The gold dragons are never, ever to be trusted.
This poem will be in the poetry book I'm writing. Any thoughts or constructive criticism is welcome!
How did gold become so
wicked? So evil and impure?
What was it that tainted their
hearts? Made them arrogant
but with such Allure?
Silver remains as humble
as the very dust upon which
they walk.
While gleaming gold hoards
treasures of abundance inside
palaces carved in rock.
Curtains made of silk.
Carpets of the finest thread.
Great halls filled with history
that no one has ever read.
Sterling silver may tell
the tales, but it is upon gold
that they are written.
Alluring giants hoarding
wealth and lusting with
ambition.
Who can resist charms
of a dragon who shines
like gold?
Who can ignore their
whispers as they press
you into their mold?
Alone and isolated
away from all the others.
They have no use for friends
or equals for they are unlike
any other.
Fight and scramble if you will
over your territories of dust.
Gold has no need for war.
Their bounty shall not fade
or rust.
Who do you think it is?
That makes history weave
and fold?
Who is it that moves the
world along?
Who would be so bold?
Gleaming gold would be so
bold. They would move the
world.
Think what you will of your
ambition and might, but to
them you are but a pawn on
the board.
They are not the hoarders of
knowledge or the keepers of
ancient history.
They are the writers of the
future. They determine who
is and what will be.
Every king and nation laid
before them in every palace.
Every thought and every move
they make. Inscribed before them
as if on a chalice.
They drink not wine but ambition.
For they control the world.
Gleaming gold are the history
makers and you will do as you
are told.
Think of them what you will.
They care not for you little thoughts.
Nothing you do can stop them.
All your resistance will be for naught.
Look into their eyes.
Eyes like finest gems.
Hear the voice of eternal ages that
existed long before beast or men.
Hear the groaning of history as
it comes alive again.
Then tell me little mortal beast
if you can yet find your voice.
When you came to question me
who was it that allowed you
that choice?