Riding the Northern Light. A Poem.

I saw the star through a mirror that night
And rode a dragon made of the sun's light.
It took my whole strength and might
To recover from the mesmerizing sight.

I saw the morning sky at dawn, a pale pink rose
That faded again into orange, then yellow, then it froze
into diamond blue. It could've been very close
to a teal color, but by then I sank into a light doze...

I found myself on a fearsome dragon
but it was white, white like a flagon
of milk, and it was powered by sagging
wings that beat against the wind, the star's oceans.
 
Will the sky ever be the same to my eyes
To the one who rode the everlasting skies?
The ride of fire, light, and burning ice
to the very top of the angel's soaring cries?

It placed me gently on a towering cliff
Made of purest marble and it stood stark and stiff
against the blackness of the sky. A heady whiff
of sharp and icy air remained, like an ancient hieroglyph.

Flying home was both saddening and heartlifting
Because I knew that in the ending
I would never fly like this again.