The Paradox Of Man

I dreamed a dream of the silver tongued dragon. Projecting magnificence, maleficence; radiating presence. To behold its form and beauty is to be mesmerised by its atmosphere, an atmosphere with gravity, drawing into its orbit troupes of "flying monkeys", clambering one over the other to perform their duty of abuse by proxy lest they become its next meal. The beating heart of the silver tongued dragon is a lump of coal as black as the night sky. To keep its black heart beating ember red requires an elaborate and insidious spell, a spell of deception and psychological manipulation cast by the light of a "gas-lit" fire. Beware of the silver tongued dragon. Do not let it draw your ire since this is the trap it sets for you. To speak out against it is to speak its language. No sooner do the words emanate from your lips than a madness and confusion surround you. You are the enemy and it is you who will be hung out to dry.  Much better for you that you be a "grey rock...