THE GOLD'S DRAGON

by Alfred D. Byrd

In the cave both cold and dark  that it calls its home,

A serpent, seething with flame,  is set on its gold.

It has won the wealth it guards  by way of slaughter,

Has lived for love of its gleam,   its light like the sun's,

But fears its loss through the force  of a foe's assault.

Hearing its hall's invasion,  a hollow footfall,

It sees the sign of combat,  a sword's refulgence,

And hardens its heart for strife  to hold what is dear.

Guarding the gold of its hoard,  the god of its life,

The worm in its lair awaits  the warrior's approach.

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The rivals, ready for strife,  arrive at combat:

A fire unfolds in the cave, but fails to conquer;

The sword now seeks its target  and severs a life.

The hero beholds the blood  from a heart now pierced,

Gathers the gold he has won,  the goal of his quest,

And heads for the home he left  in the hope of fame.

Grateful, his people greet him,  their gracious savior,

And hail him, with hymns of praise,  their highest ruler.

The gold he gained through courage  now gives him honor:

He weds the woman all prize  as worthy of love;

He wields the warlord's sceptre;  his will is supreme.

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To hold the worth he has won,  the wealth of his gold,

Becomes the care of his heart,  the killing of joy.

Each hollow footfall heralds  his hall's invasion;

Each sword reveals to his sight   the signs of combat;

Through fear of a foe's assault  he is filled with loss.

The wealth he has won for himself  by way of slaughter

Is now his light and his love,  and limits his world.

Guarding the gold of his hoard,  the god of his life,

The worm in his lair awaits  a warrior's approach.