I do battle the dragon. The battle is constant. I fight with my bare hands, scraping and clawing, with such belligerence that I hurt myself more than it. When I walk away, which is rare, I am bloodied and bruised and unsure of what happened or what to do next.

The dragon is cunning and powerful. It seeks wealth, love, sex, joy, pain, and much, much more but more than anything, freedom from longing. The dragon is cunning, but not very wise. It buries its head in the ground in rare moments of defeat, ashamed, and chagrined. I never know the fighting has begun, until it’s almost over…until I’m about to give.

When I walk away, although I may have broken bones or missing limbs, I feel the same freedom that the dragon seeks but will never attain because the dragon is not wise, and the dragon does not give up; but I do.