There is a fable our folks used to tell,
With a witch, a knight, a princess and a dragon as well,
in the end, the witch and the dragon were dead:
both fell in a water stream, their blood mixed with the weed,
the knight rode thru the summit with the princess
holding fast his chest, on the horse back, motionless.
No one hears when the story is over,
The book is closed; it has a brown leather cover,
And the children went to sleep,
But the silence is too intense and so hard to keep:
What did happen with them, before ever after,
When they rode to the sunset together?
The princess leaned and closed her dark eyes,
resting all journey, all three long days,
Even when the storm was strong:
She was safe and knew there could be no wrong,
She finally found a place both fair and just
Where she could rest with her heart filled with trust.
The knight did not need to say a single word,
He was silent even when thanked the Lord,
But as he heard her soft rhythmic breath
He also saw a glimpse of Heaven in this Earth:
With her sleeping embrace
He was rewarded with blessed grace.
And this happens outside the book,
Do not try to open and look,
The Knight and the princes are only inside
Their own wandering mind,
Unless another tale brings the witch and the dragon back
You will have to follow their remaining track.