She had subconsciously conjured up a dragon––
not a puff-the-magic type of dragon,
but a medieval beast of The Game of Thrones variety.
Escaping it in nightmares had become a nightly struggle,
and now here it was appearing in her morning meditation.

Knowing it was time, she inhaled deeply,
and on the exhale she looked the beast straight in the eyes.
When it flared its nostrils, a chill ran up her spine.
When the flames engulfed her,
there was an unexpected sense of calm.

She inhaled deeply, and on the exhale
thought-forms rose in her awareness––
phantoms rising from a stagnant pool of sweet nostalgia
soured by various strains of pain and trauma.
And as they rose, she witnessed their incineration.

The vision induced an acrid smell...
like burnt sugar doused with vinegar––an assault on the senses.
It triggered a loud and violent sneeze!
And like flu-infested droplets, destructive patterns and behaviors
flew out of her energy field and evaporated.

“Bless you!” screeched the dragon, as it rose and spread its wings.
“Fearing me, you expected pain.
Facing me, your pain has been transmuted.”
And in a puff of smoke, it vanished.
The air around her cleansed, was sweet with frankincense and myrrh.

She inhaled deeply, and on the exhale she heard:
You have faced and embraced your shadow, dear one.
Now, YOU are the dragon.
May your words be lit with the fire of Truth.
May your wings lift others to Freedom.

She inhaled deeply, and on the exhale
she bowed her head in reverence.
When she rose, her outstretched arms felt like wings.
And with a tongue lit with the fire of Truth,
She declared her commitment.