I've heard....

Silently my dreams fall like leaves floating to the ground. My mouth is burning fire. Dragon claws hold my heart capitve. I've heard, you are the only one who could conquer this dragon. It is hard to find the way at night and it is always night here. In the darkness you can feel the breeze, it is damp, it is cold but swaths of hot steam hit your face like a violent rejection. Odor of strange fruits mingles with your thoughts, you try to stay clear but almost everybody will be eventually led astray. Things move smoothly and rapidly but you can't see the strong current under the immaculate surface of the river of tears someone has cried. I've heard you could walk in water and it seems so familiar, I've heard that before, somewhen, in a different context. Obstacles are in the way and you have to find your way through the dark like a blind man. You have to follow your heart.
I don't know whether my heart is worth it but you beg me on your knees with saliva or tears dropping down the corner of your lips not to speak of an irrevocable past.
When the morning attempts to dawn your face is covered with cold sweat. Your eyebrows and eye lashes are burned to dust. Like an old man you raise your shivering hands, your fingers are shaking in a desperate fit of orientation: you haven't found the way yet. Don't you see, may I suggest, that there will never be a day reversed? Never will the sun rise in the west no matter how hard you cry. You will have to head for the morning.
However, after a few moments of hesitation the sun goes back to sleep because there is nothing else to do and I fall into grave-like silence and hang my head and wait with the indifferently mumbling brook in the back of my cave - motion and emotionless. Just waiting like burning stone, with the crickets that maliciously hack away on their chords and the vile trees that used to be friendly in a different age. Like golden bells memories ring, preventing anything alive to fall entirely into the too welcome coma. Nothing here could tell you though, which steps to take, no one can, no one but the stones are boiling in palpable pangs of love.
'Sorry' I hear your whisper, 'but I seem not to be capable of doing this'.
I smile but only half of it reaches you. I used to. Ah, old. Now my friends are spiderwebs and every now and then they catch a bug for me, it shimmers green golden in the light of a lonely star that is trying to help me through the night.
Professions fade away like stone erosions and everything stumbles and falls and turns into dust or into ghost material and that's just as fine with me.
I've heard you could find me. But the point to the story might have gotten lost on it's way to my ears, here in this soft dark dragon cave. My lips have burnt like feverish fire ever since this strange voice whispered the news and the dragon still holds me captive in this everlasting night but I am not complaining about anything. Because - cuando viene el dia mis penas s'agrandan; solo las sombras de la noche oscura consuelan mi alma.