The room was adorn with red tapestry on the walls — silk maroon, velvet burgundy — and a a floor tempered in flame. There was a dragon dance happening. A slithering line of human legs carried the Chinese costume caricature of a writhing red dragon back and forth across the room. I felt drawn to join the form of such a powerful mythic creature. Something in its eye peered and reflected through my own. I stepped towards the slithering parade and the human beings carrying the dragon made space for me to enter the realm of the flying flame serpent. Once underneath the dragon’s skin, the airy quality to the dragon custom was revealed to be an illusion from the outside. The paper mache bore down with a heavy weight as I shouldered the dragon on my back. Everyone parading the dragon felt the weight, the burden of this serpent. We walked on rock and brittle stone which covered the floor and bruised our feet.
How to ride the dragon without baring its weight? I know the dance and move now to grab the dragon’s tale. I take hold, and let the might of this serpent carry me through the clouds into pure sky.