DraconicPhoenix

DRAGON The dragon. A fearsome beast, Present in all corners of the world. From Asia, to Europe, Even to the Americas. But like the phoenix. It has disappeared from the physical world. Giving up its corporeal form, To inhabit each of us as a spirit. Like the phoenix. The dragon was a symbol Of strength, intelligence, independence, Grace and fury. Each human on earth is home to one of these traits, But creative thinkers, The poets, lyricists, artists, and writers, Are the true dragons of our time. The strength of their work, The power of a dragon's claws. Cleaving through the nonsense, Revealing the guts, The truth, Of th

PHOENIX The Phoenix. Once a bird born of fire. Once a bird that died of fire. Now commonplace, To think of it as a myth. Nothing. No more. But I believe otherwise. It still lives on. No longer as a bird. But as a spirit. A spirit within every poet, Lyricist, artist, and creative thinker. Keeping a cycle of rebirth And fertile grounds For one to speak their mind. It lives on within each of us, Waiting for a spark to ignite its fire, And come forth in a blaze of glory. The poet is born of fire. A fire for speaking their mind. A fire for spilling their life's blood. A fire, to spark the spirit of the Phoenix Within other

GAMER I, am a gamer. It's not a hobby, Nor an addiction. No, to me… It's a lifestyle. Instead of living one life. I choose to live many. The characters in games, Are not just Avatars. To me, they are something more. Each character that I create, Has their own backstory. What made them who they are. Each one is a part of who I am. I feel their pain. Their sorrow. Their loss. … Their joy. Their success. The thrill of the challenge. Through each one, I live a way That I could never hope to In this world. I can be the driving force In a conflict to save all life in a galaxy. I can be the self-centered asshole

The clarion call of Legion horns jolted Maximillion from his dream. He bolted from his bed when he realized that it was the call to arms for the general Cohorts. The rest of the centurions around his tent had already donned their armor and were strapping their Gladii to their sword belts. Max was always slow at donning his armor; he'd only been in the Legions since he had turned sixteen a little more than a month ago. He'd been placed as a centurion on a whim of the captain, Tiberius Caius. Caius thought he had recognized something within Max and decided to test a theory by placing Max in a position of leadership. The Legionnaires directly

"So, Max. You ready?" "I have no choice. I was forced in this," murmured Maximillion as he walked down the long marble hallway next to Olivia, the soft slaps of their leather sandals echoing throughout the hall. Her long, dirty blond hair followed her in an elegant ponytail. She wasn't near Max's height, but she could easily keep up with his brisk pace down the hallway. With each step, her Gladius clanked against her long dueling-sword strapped to the sash of her emerald green dress. It was the only thing she had kept from her days in the Legions. Max slowed down, though Olivia didn't slow down. She walked by him, almost oblivious to his