And in the dark, the dragon wakes. Softly, squeaking like an old wheel turning ever so slowly, but steadily rising; every falling star regaining its wings and soaring beyond burning worlds, galaxies on fire. There was a star like that, with the heart of an immortal reptile, the scaled dreamer living a life of flames, living within memory and outside of time; I knew your name so well, I could never forget you.
And everything you were was a mirage, a wish floating on the soft breeze of the summers of my childhood; where the sun stained everyone´s skin but left mine paper white and ever so thin. I was a thing of winter, the child of the north and the evergreens. I was the one who belonged where I should never have belonged; so they threw me out. They challenged me and I lost; I know how to lose.
So, now, in the dark, the dragon wakes. Now the memories rise from their dust and cry out their burning desires, now I speak your name. Listen to me, come to me, complete me. I have been dry and I have been listless; I´ve lain dead in a pool of hospital lights and pill boxes, asking myself for whom all this is done. It is for you, everything has always been for you; you are worthy and you are beautiful. For you, the reptile heart burns and drives the wheels of time, for you, for you.