A wizard sat alone, in a tower tall,
His eyes were fixed, on the book so small.
He flipped through the pages, of ancient tomes,
Searching for a name, to call his own.
For every wizard needs, a name to claim,
A title of power, to speak of their fame.
A name to weave, into the spells they cast,
A name that speaks, of their power and their past.
He searched the pages, with a heavy heart,
For he knew that his name, was yet to start.
He needed a name, to claim as his own,
A name that would echo, through the ages unknown.
He searched through the pages, of mystic lore,
Looking for a name, that would fit him more.
He wanted a name, that spoke of his power,
A name that would fill, every mortal hour.
The wizard searched, with all his might,
To find a name, that was just right.
And then he found it, a name so rare,
A name that spoke, of the magic he could share.
He whispered the name, to the stars above,
And felt the power, of a name with love.
For every wizard needs, a name to call their own,
A name that speaks, of their power and their throne.
And so, the wizard claimed his name,
A title of power, to speak of his fame.
He wove it into, every spell he cast,
A name that spoke, of his power and his past.
For every wizard needs, a name to claim,
A title of power, to speak of their fame.
A name that fills, every mortal hour,
A name that echoes, with magical power.
+ + Mark + +
+ + Ammarah + +