He sat upon a throne of hoarded gold,
Smelted into shape by fires exhaled,
A king without a crown,
But a coronation of horns,
He had the tongue of a dragon,
The scaled epitome of absolute authority,
A white-hot mailed fist,
And when he spoke,
Embers erupted at the sound,
The storms coalesced and yelled praise,
Mountains kneeled in thrall,
Forests shivered in their roots,
All beasts knew domination,
And even Men feared the shadow in the sky,
All under his wings was his domain,
Fields and seas and bastions,
Nations and borders be damned,
Such trifles are for lessers,
For he was a dragon,
Brimstone was his birthright,
And a dragon only understands submission.
