In a green hill,
the hollow green hills,
a dragon sleeps, tonight.
The red cross on the white shield of St. George is made up of red scales like the scales of the red dragon that wakes at the foot of St Michael’s Spear.
The red cross on the breast of St. George’s white breast-plate is made up of red scales like the scales of the red dragon whose forked tongue licks the root of St Michael’s Spear.
…And since when did the Archangel Michael become a Saint anyway?
Since the wings from the dragon subdued by St George became the self-same wings unfurling from his shoulder-blades.
Red as blood in the fight the fiery dragon rises
Pinioned and led, fled from earth to pole.
A posited pole that starry spear… arrowed straight to light… eddying out… to and fro… back and forth… body and soul… to soul.
For the sight of the night pole leads to the flight of the light soul.
In passion fled…red to red…unbled.
A bright, spear point fed…
to the dragon, red.
In the dark skies,
a hollow dark sky
the dragon sleeps, tonight.