Lightning Paper
The young magician
who preferred “magician” over mage
there was standing on the daylight dock, here in one of the busiest markets
on a planet long alive in what they called
a Renaissance a transformation from poor to grand and other sorts of progression.
But the magician was a fool who wanted things far too soon far too easy
having been tricked into buying a gold leaf paper spell
from an attractive tricky merchant
supposedly a form of single wish or desire but the paper spell
really was just a recipe to make a small urn of flowers appear
most of them orange and white and not green.
The magician came here to the watery dock, to
make the merchant who’d tricked her with the paper spell
pay in full. But what happened instead was a forceful storm
with small balls of lightning in black smoke that killed the magician
on the spot.
Yes, the magician died from self-owned hands, because the magician
had generated the storm to smite the merchant
— but the merchant was a well-calculating person, who sent it back.
Terrible lesson to learn, with no refund or reversal
available. What a shame to lose such fine magical robes
and fine magical years
for nothing.
Green Cake Magician
A suit of armor
carved from green cake and
precision strapped with platinum layers that
join with shiny black leather
or maybe just something inorganic and
cold.
I’ve long held a disposition for
green cake because
I love it, I do. The look is contrast designed
and its magick borrowed from the stunning female magician
in copper gossamer
who lives in a small and tidy castle placed underground
so as not to be noticed by those passing by
the nearby coastal shore and of course the
snow-favored forest where a small path laid with mosaics
eventually leads to her curious door.
Onward to a tactical meeting I go, with the armor— with green cake
and a small bag of sapphire frosting
and desires to see things going lovely in campaign and
a calculated shade of formal
diplomacy
with a hint of valor
and neutrality.
Onward, indeed.


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