Roder´s Second Dragon

Sir Riding Roder, all must listen
of his deeds and makings in this land.
His sword and service he had given
to brave King Arthur on Camelot.
His mind was turned to hero-deeds
To dragon-slaying and monster-killing
All his thoughts were on this needs
not on treasure nor on love.
Many maids cried by his leaving
broken hearted, soul in sore.
They begged him so, just to listen
to reason´s voice and ride no more.
But immune to them Sir Roder rode,
across the plains and far-off roads.
He crossed with Galahad of shiny armor,
Who begged of him to ride no more.
But seek the Grail and restore the youth
the kingdom lacked, and end the rouse
between Sir Roder and the other knights
Who thought him vain to undermine
To Round Table and all its Fame.
Who would want as a company
a men whose voice sounded in litany
only for dragons, only for them?
A dragon for killing, a maid in his den.
A dragon for dreaming Sir Roder had found
The last dragon on Britain on top of a mound.
Goodbye to Galahad, may your peace prevail
No Heaven´s Glory, no Holy Grail
Instead his mind was fixed in them:
Dragon´s mound and Dragon´s den.
And so on he rode, Sir Roder the knight
Until he met with Merlin one night.
"A prophecy, oh bard! I ask of thee
Give me the future a chance to see".
Old Merlin who knew most of the stars
by name and by foot for he had been there
In the lands of Old Times, now underground
Where all the secrets where to be found.
Lowered his voice and quietly spoke
Not of dragons, not of killings
But of yew, barley and oak.
Of all the voices contained in nature
The most sacred of all spoke through him
Go home, he said, and forget your task.
Forget the monster, turn your back.
He who seeks what is not there
Will only find it heavy to bear
The burden of an empty mission
The burden of an endless fiction.
Go home and become what you really are
Forget this road in which you came so far!
You are not this desire to control & destroy
Dragons are not yours to be bent towards
Your every tiding and capricious whim
Their fury is not there for you to win
A battle or medal, nor is their teeth
For adorning your halls and long tapestries.
Their wings shall not use to raise as a banner
Their heads never meant to be displayed in this manner!
Their skin is not there just to be cut
Their bones never made for others to hurt
When you engrave them as daggers, daggers still wet
Of their mighty blood from the mighty silhouette.
So listen! And listen well...
Don´t look for them, you must respect
The Old Way of the gods that wisely kept
Dragons in dens and men in their homes.
Each has a place and a voice to call reason.
But Roder, poor Roder,
You think he would listen?
A night with old Merlin might even had been
A night with a stranger with nothing to tell
For he didn´t listen to a word from the tale.
A prophecy was lost in a mind full of gale
Sir Roder had winds to keep him on going
Winds in his head that insisted in blowing
And when those winds took the form of a dragon...
Nothing would stop him from riding his way.
As he rode in that morning
When Merlin stopped performing
To an innocent man - so pure in his way
Sir Roder kept riding, kept riding away.
By the Lake he saw Sir Lancelot
Who begged of him to ride no more.
He spoke of Love and lover´s pains
He spoke of hard sweet painful chains
Cast around a loving heart
(All men someday would play this part)
And feel the love, and feel rejoice
Their hearts by the simple voice
Of the beloved one, such a beauty!
As common man could never see.
What could be much more than Love?
That made him want for nothing more?
Sir Roder wondered if this could be
what he would feel when he would see
A dragon growling above the sea.


etc.