Just in case you think it gone,
you'll see in like that its quite strong.
No keen sense hath to it been so lost,
much more than so be winter's frost.
Some dragons leave while others stay,
this dragon will always find a way.
None these words have fled my mind,
for of their like you will not find.
In any verse that's left this tongue,
May I grow old? I'll still feel Jung.
This word's play isn't for give or take,
Nor will you find that within it fake.
Words stretched hither from a branch,
to fall their length before your stance.
You may climb within a day,
or you may fall, 'pon the ground you lay.
Some do learn from what they read.
Yet others feel their only greed.
To take the credit for what they've nought,
Take from again by whom its wrought.
Lay their claim by blood much better,
an heir to theft that's unbefettered.
For if you take from those unknown,
use it to keep those who've much grown.
Who would believe these by words gone?
Much has your like by taken song?
No muse will find you in your heart,
For its not there. From you I part...
Brian Joseph Johns