From The Womb Of Fire, Dangling Life's Promise (9) Poem by Captain Cur

And with Mavros flew a tempest unlike
Any that have stirred the desert floor,
Purposely climbing dunes, leveling their peaks
As swirling sand sank into gaping pores
Replenishing shelves within its earthen store.
In triumph each gyrating circle wound
Mavros, lunging through the thickening air,
Whirlwinds within his armored wings were bound
Rings of sand adorning his reptilian crown.

There Mavros stood glorious as morning;
A lone creature amid the settling sand,
Beauty of the day itself reforming
Reclaiming the length of its falling strands
Touching Mavros with the warmth of its outstretched hand.
Unmoving, time itself to desecrate,
Unconcerned by the sun's darkening band
But ever alert, appearing to wait
In the confines of that hot and desolate place.

In ancient cults, a god to serve upon,
Having borne witness to the flight and now
As all worship must coalesce in one
Bringing love or unimaginable woe
Where the rarest rain pique the desert's lustrous glow.
Men built great temples reaching toward the sky
And sacrificed to dragons here below
Dangling life's promise, to pain and to die,
Parading themselves before the dragon's selective eye!