Monday, March 30, 2015

Poetry for the Soul by J L Muvlihill


 The wizard held his staff up high,
as lightening cracked and sparks fell from the sky.
His dark robes billowing in the wind,
his hair wild and white as the beard on his chin.
His face weathered and marked by time,
and uttering from his lips he spoke only one line.
An ancient verse very few have heard,
but he yelled it with such passion accentuating 
each word.
High above a dragon raged and flew with icy speed,
with silvery skin,
enormous wings,
and blazing eyes of green.
The wizard cast a spell and sent it flying toward the sky,
the spell hit the dragon in the heart as the monster 
glided by.
The dragon screamed and bleated his defiance at this,
as fire spilled from his mouth but the wizard it did miss.
Still the lightening cracked and it began to rain,
the dragon filled with rage screamed out in pain.
The wizard’s spell cast upon the beast,
had bound it at last and its body fell to the trees.
In sorrow the wizard watched as the dragon drew
last breath,
and faded slowly into the slumber and at last into death.
His task now completed the last dragon gone but at 
what cost,
no more dragons,
no more wizards,
soon the magic too would be lost.
For each one feeds upon the other,
the wizard without the dragon so like love without 
the lover.
War no more will the dragon wage,
peace no more will the wizard gauge.
A dying breed they both have been,
both to lose no one to win.
He turned and walked away head bent to hide
            his sorrow,
no one to see his tears his greatness gone on
            the morrow.
No more as a wizard would he stand,
all anyone will see now is a broken old man.
So ends the magic of dragons and wizards for only 
legends they be,
memories of them kept alive through songs,
and reflective poetry.

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