A bolt of lightning struck the stone

That sat atop the hill,

Chards and fragments bellowed out,

Amidst the angry shrill.

 

The little wizard, wand in hand,

Sat close with angry face,

He'd vented his frustations, but,

One still held it's place.

 

He'd learned to cast a spell or two,

And mix his potions well,

But, stifled by the unknown charms,

He was trapped inside a shell.

 

For there are spells that bring forth light,

Or conjure up a storm,

Simple things can disappear,

Or modify their form.

 

You can make a flower sing,

A stringless puppet dance,

Put a jinx on evil ones,

Evoke a sleeplike trance.

 

But what the wizard wanted most,

Wasn't in his magic sack,

The one trick he could never do,

Was have someone love him back.

 

For all the magic in the world,

Was worthless now it seems,

If it could not produce for him,

The lady of his dreams.

 

'Cause wizards, witches, warlocks too,

Even angels up above,

Are powerless when it comes,

To unrequited love.

 

He aimed the wand right at his chest,

And thrust it like a dart,

He never felt the wand go in,

Just it's warmth inside his heart.

 

He pulled the wand back out again,

And saw it's glow was gone,

His broken heart was mended,

But now he had no magic wand.

 

He pulled the wand back in again,

But this time felt the pain,

he pulled it out with a painful shout,

And found it glowed again.

 

He gained a mighty wisdom:

The powers that he used,

Grew from all of his life's lessons,

And were not to be abused.

 

So he sat in silence through the night,

Warmed by the wands bright beams,

And learned a wizard can't exist,

Without a wizard's dreams.

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