Beware the Wizard Blue

Beware the wizard blue,

of whom the stories true,

For he is not as he seems,

Instead built of crippled dreams,

and though his face be benevolent

it hides scores of lives lain torn and rent.

That hat of stars,

those hands of scars,

his locks of grey,

the years betray

his deeds through time

his work, his crime

upon man and ‘verse

He plies his gift, his curse

Though once proud and tall

Now stood bent and small,

But if the gold doth spend,

his powers still lend

any wish fulfilled

or blood be spilled,

to curse their names

to win adoring dames

there be no depth nor darkness,

his powers shall not harness

for no need nor want

can escape his font

thereupon a wyrmwood wand

he marks this oath, this bond.

But before you seek his aid

know, he is always paid

and the coin, it is but half

for in his den he hides a laugh,

the balance, it comes due late

and seemingly by fate

his schemes and plans

converge like hands

as they close in firm

you fight, you squirm

they squeeze for death

and upon your final breath

your life, your mind, your soul

they join the legion in the bowl

of his font, the very same

from whence your desires came

to keep him earning

to grant the yearning

of the next poor fool

as narrow and as cruel

Beware the wizard Blue,

for indeed the stories are all true...