A poem for the Mage Paper.
Posted: Tue May 28, 2013 9:13 pm
Strange magenta aura you aspire,
with furious breath of fire,
A strange kind of paper,
The Words of a great maker.
To you I sing of greatness
That you are what you are,
and none can make better,
Old Ancient- and magnificent
If it could be that we might dream
To rest upon your sheen,
as it glistens in dazzling rays,
Oh Old one hear me sing.
That you are so pretty,
and a tongue so witty,
Though I know we are gritty,
To judge such voracity
Paper Paper your cards so clear,
drawing from each a pearl we hold dear
That you might whisper a word of grace,
Or end us in your furious wake.
Yet we beseech and call thy nature,
Upon eternal words of love that churn,
Let us see what lies in the end,
Instead let's see if we could be friends!
with furious breath of fire,
A strange kind of paper,
The Words of a great maker.
To you I sing of greatness
That you are what you are,
and none can make better,
Old Ancient- and magnificent
If it could be that we might dream
To rest upon your sheen,
as it glistens in dazzling rays,
Oh Old one hear me sing.
That you are so pretty,
and a tongue so witty,
Though I know we are gritty,
To judge such voracity
Paper Paper your cards so clear,
drawing from each a pearl we hold dear
That you might whisper a word of grace,
Or end us in your furious wake.
Yet we beseech and call thy nature,
Upon eternal words of love that churn,
Let us see what lies in the end,
Instead let's see if we could be friends!