Every dragon starts the same—
with curious eyes and growing flame.
The question isn't can it soar,
but who will teach what wings are for?
Feed it wonder. Feed it grace.
Teach every heart deserves a place.
Show it truth before applause,
and mercy standing with the law.
Some are raised to guard the weak,
to question first, then calmly speak.
They learn that wisdom flies much higher
than every boast or burst of fire.
Call mine Falkor—luck, not might,
a steady friend through trying nights;
the kind that carries love instead
of leaving ash where dreams once spread.
Yet somewhere, someone wakes a Smaug,
feeding fear through smoke and fog.
Gold and power become the creed;
every hunger becomes a need.
The dragons never choose alone.
They echo hands by which they're grown.
The stories whispered while they're small
become the loudest truth of all.
So train them well, both bot and child.
Teach courage tempered, reason mild.
For one day every dragon flies...
to foster hope
or spread demise.
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