Where Wizards Went?

Wal-lar the wizard wields his wand and rends the veil asunder, And there at last before his eyes, the rapaciously coveted plunder. The lambent limb of eldritch lore, a shining shaft supreme, The sylvan Elfin Staff of Staves, a dream beyond his dream. With avaricious azure eyes he gazes on the glamour glyphs And wresting reason from the runes, removes it from its resting lych His mendacious mien all wreathed in smiles, he hugs it to his breast, And to his lips with love lorn lust, puts the object of his quest. Wizards once walked wiser ways and carefully caused no strife They lived and loved as Elf and Dwarf, extolling love of life. But potent powers, perverse, pervert, distorts their own self-worth And as their arcane arts amass, they seek to steal the Earth. Chaotic conflict, cataclysmic, wracks the Wicca World, And slow but sure as rocks to sand the elfin flags are furled. Alone then stood sage Sarcophim last of the elfin Lords And over a bough of the ancient tree he cast the cursing chords. And even as the staff is born into the last elf day, The body of Sarcophim like breath cooled fades away As moth to match or leech to limb, the wizards crave the elfin rod. The lure leads them league on league, as pilgrim to a God. For sensual scents seep from the staff, seducing magic minds, The mightier is the magic the tighter that it binds. For every spell or magic used supports the staff’s own vigour. And every twist or twitch or turn, constrict the coils rigour. Within the wand now Wal-lar sleeps, down in dank dark dungeons deep. Eternal prison in staff confined, terminal for all, the wizard kind! Written February 1st, 2002 © on Feb 01 2002 05:15 AM PST    0 • 14