In the Valley of the Dragon
Where pilgrim shadows bow to pray
A cold and wounded rain cloud
Came home to Tiger Bay.
She stood upon a mountain
And cried for seven days
Her heart was broken by the storm
That carried her away.
 
Saltwater tears of bitter pain
Washed snow capped mountain bare
The sundance crossed the naked rock
And pierced the dragon´s lair.
Between the bones of ancient souls
An egg filled nest of blood red hair
Caressed by sunlit fingers gently
Kissed by mountain air.
 
A green egg shivered in the nest
And tumbled to the ground
It rolled across the mountaintop
And dropped without a sound.
A thousand feet into the deep
The green egg floated down
To the dark sea bed where the lobster fed
The green eggshell unwound.
 
As darkness fell the ocean swell
Bore little creatures to the shore
Sand water weed and fishing net
Wove moonlit trail to forest floor.
Above the silent woodland still
Below the ocean´s angry roar.
The newborn tasted sleeping leaves
And bathed in milky waterfalls
 
They climbed up to the highest rock
And dared the moon to leave the sky
They fought the wicked angel
That shatters babies lullabies.
From tar black grainy shadows
He stains the world through soul dead eyes
Afraid to touch the holy
Entombed in everlasting night.
 
The coldest hour protected
Cross crystal twisted forest dense
And graveyards still infected
With broken dreams and common sense.
Past monuments neglected
Through bombpool bog and barbed wire fence
The newborn unmolested
Beneath the veil of innocence.
 
They came upon a clearing
Baptised in waves of golden corn
As sunlight swept on silver threads
That wash the sky and paint the dawn.
A dying scarecrow preacher
Blessed mother sun and sister moon
For no man made believer
Should face his final hour alone.
 
`Such pretty little creatures´
The ragged preacher smiled
The lobster said you shared an egg
And rode here on the tide.
To witness my surrender
To the lonely cool I feel inside´
And now his prayer was answered
The scarecrow preacher learned to fly.
 
 
Tony Johnson