The Wizard of Flaming Flapdoodle

The Wizard of Flaming Flapdoodle
lived alone in a castle high,
All alone with his spells and his dreams
Off where the firebellows fly.

Now the Wizard of Flaming Flapdoodle
lived life downside up and wide,
for he’d dreamed and lived and learned
and did and sipped and tried--
Anything and everything
that he could ever do
and now he stayed in his castle alone
because all had been done and there was nothing new.

Far below the castle walls,
down in the valley below,
across the meadow, beyond the stream
was a forest where no one would go.

The girlchild of the witch Esmeralda
lived alone in the forest deep,
All alone with her dreams and her charms,
down where the firechirps cheep.

Now the girlchild of the witch Esmeralda
lived life on the sly:
Always hiding, always safe
Never venturing into the world outside--
She kept with what was familiar;
the tried and true was her gold—
She kept to all that had already been done;
she treasured everything old.

In between the forest in the valley below
and the castle high on the hill,
lived a mother-dragon, all alone
staying alive by sheer force of will.

She watched over her very last egg,
knowing she'd never lay any more.
The DragonCritten were dying out:
Thus this egg was precious as never before.
She'd waited for years for this special birth;
knowing with it a new era begins.
The motherdragon watched lovingly
as her golden egg hatched dragonstwins.

***
The last Motherdragon of all the DragonCritten
knew she was dying, but wouldn’t give in:
She sounded forth from her golden throat
a mother’s song in one long, final note.
She knew her children, the last firelizards
would need the girlchild and the wizard.

She sang to their hearts
her song of despair;
not to their minds
full of thoughts saying beware!
She sang to emotions,
She sang of great joy.
She sang to the witchchild and the wizardboy.
She sang of great magics.
She sang of old glories.
She sang of pure love
and of all the old stories.
She sang of protecting
the old and the new,
she sang of the legends
and history proved true.
She sang of beforetimes,
when the world was still wild,
She called them the Guardians-
Wizard and child.
***

Thus he in his castle
and she in her lair
both heard the dragonsong
on cool morning air.
Both felt a yearning;
a feeling so rich
that they met over hatchings
that wizard and witch.

Worn out from her song
she lay down her great head,
folded her wings
and then she was dead-
But almost as if she didn’t quite die,
she turned into stars, the last Dragoncritten
for the guardians had answered
and thus history was written.

The girlchild of the witch Esmeralda
joined the wizard on his heights
and there they raised the dragontwins;
taught the dragons wrong from right.
They taught them magic
and how to fly.
They taught them to question
And wonder and why.
They taught them old songs
and ones yet to be written-
These dragontwins
of the Dragoncritten.

And in the teaching both had found
that they were taught as well,
That indeed, there was much new in the world
when one with dragontwins does dwell.
And that all the old-the stories, the tales
do indeed have wondrous worth,
but only when one uses all one’s learned
and ventures beyond the place of one’s birth.

The Wizard of Flaming Flapdoodle
now lives in his castle high
with the witchchild and the dragons
who circle the morning sky.
The girlchild of the witch Esmeralda
now greets the dawn with joy
as she and the dragontwins
sing to the wizard boy.

A twinkling star in the heavens
yet keeps watch with a mother's eye,
knowing as only a mother can know
of the trials to come and the reasons why.
Yet she believes with every ounce of her being,
yet she believes with every pulse of her star
that the four below have what it takes
to truely be--all that they are.