Dragonstorm

Somewhere, where the water is pure,
Crystal clear in an icy sea,
That’s where the Blue Dragon slumbers,
Just waiting, paitently.
With hide of winter’s chill,
And breath to freeze your will,
A body that could self-heal,
A magnificent beast, indeed.

Where the moon falls from the sky,
And hides for just the day,
A sparkling creature watches,
Just trying to find his way.
Banished to this prison,
The Yellow Dragon will glisten,
Until the moon has again risen,
Now his beauty, he could not display.

The Black Dragon roams this land,
Of heat and volcanic fires,
His heart too cold to be warmed,
By anything less than these pyres.
With eyes glowing bright red,
Peering out from a charcoaled head,
A true creature of the undead,
Consumption of all things, his desire.

Hidden in caves underground,
The Red Dragon waits for his time.
When the world will once again call,
From the depths he will rapidly climb.
A heart pure and true,
Nobleness, he would pursue,
Any evil, try to subdue,
King of dragons, solemn and sublime.

A beast connected to Earth,
It’s protection, alone in his mind.
The Green Dragon stands on guard,
To all else, this creature is blind.
Always casting a deaf ear,
To those whom wish to cheer,
Or from him, run in fear,
Considered neither ferocious nor kind.

One day, the war did come,
And sweep these giants to the sky,
Doing battle for a hundred years,
Until the world would nearly die.
Then a White Dragon arose,
Leveled everything with his blows,
His peaceful will, he did finally impose,
Blood-soaked hills would finally dry.

The dragons returned to their homes,
And peace did yet again reign,
The White Dragon then somehow vanished,
Its origin remains quite arcane.
But first a promise was heard,
And the dragon gave his word,
If another war ever occurred,
His return would be marked by pain.