I saw the fires of the Dragon lick the threshold of heaven, on the bald mountain where no trees grow.
And the heavens accepted it graciously,
bestowing floods of gifts and miracles
and he, most of all, was the miracles of miracles
That savior that stood at the heart of the dragon fires.
He was the one,
The one who was forbidden,
The one who should never be.
The one we all wished for in murdered memory.
In the burning of winter he came,
In the fires of the dragons he shone.
The wielder of lighting,
The mover of mountains,
The one true king.
With spears and gnashing teeth did they great him.
With his tears and blood did they see.
Our first shade was broken, and cast into the sea.
In the fires of the Dragon,
On the bald mountain,
I saw the true face of man. With the animals they ran.
I saw that I was one with him and he was one with the land. And the children bowed down and worshiped him
The forbidden son of man.
On the bald moun