Poetic Genetics

Within thy head, all ye poesy poets, a dragon dares to dwell, A legend that history has mythologized into stone; A statue spewing fumes through its shattering shell, Adorned by a gorgon who turned thy cone into bone. Yet within thy whimsical face, there's a trace, Of a special ancestral and ancient race. Such grace in poetical genetics, hailing from kings, I say, Whose dragon-born blood has melded with metaphysical fey. So I urge my fellow poets, you fairy folk, For trouble has run amuk, The sky is torched, its water's been yolked, It's time for words to stroke some luck. Welcome the wild winds and waters, As they dance upon your face. Repeat their tapping teeter-totters, With your gift of godly grace. See those rivers of silver slivers? They melt the heavens with hot heavy metals. Draw from your quiver of shocks and shivers, Thunder arrows as the metal settles. If by now, dear reader, you know what I mean, And have truly seen what I have seen. Call to arms your words of wisdom and mind, So that this world can be saved and kind.