Wednesday, 28 March 2012


by John Xero

His armour is detachment.

His steed is the music he rode in on, the rhythmic, heavy thunder of hooves.

His dragon is a writhing, tenebrous thing. It has a thousand eyes that watch him by day and judge him. It has a hundred mouths that flicker with tongues of barbed comment, and cruel claws which rake him with doubt.

His weapons are forged in the fire of his heart, and here, ‘neath night’s banner, he dances.

His fight with the dragon is eternal, but in these moments of grace and energy he is winning and he is nothing but happy.


  1. Metaphor, indeed. Perhaps for writing? The agony and the ecstasy therein?

    Loved the imagery, howe'er it stands.

    1. Thanks Larry. I know what I was writing about, but I love that you thought it was about writing, I really do. I think I'll leave this one open to everyone's interpretation. =)

  2. Sounds to me like he got lucky. ;-)

  3. Like Larry, I too feel it is about a writer, and how he deals with criticism, and doubt, both from himself and others.

    "Neath night's banner." Dreaming? The place of his imagination where his muse flourishes?

  4. I think I fight with that dragon too quite often.