This is a personal tale of some distress,
An acute embarrassment but I digress.
You see I am a sorcerer of some refined note;
One that is sought for my wisdom and knowledge they quote.
Years of practice and experimentation;
Years of traipsing through nation upon nation.
Wizards I met, warlocks, a few witches too,
Djinni, shamans and even a weird talking gnu.
I learned at the feet of the very best.
Picking up tricks quickly that left them impressed.
Despite all this learning I did not feel whole,
There was that last tiny spark missing in my soul.
My followers and clients were downhearted at my leaving,
They lined the road, eyes red raw with their wailing.
Years passed till I spied an old man on a mound.
He sat there meditating and looking quite profound.
I coughed a greeting and dropped to bended knee;
Hoping that he would have that last final trick for me.
The old man had eyes as infinite as space;
That contemplated me shrewdly before he bowed with good grace.
He then wove that last unknown spell and danced as it moulded.
My mind reeled with the potential as it unfolded.
Around my body a cage of bright metal grew,
Branches twisting and dancing all anew.
With a final clang the spell was complete.
At last I was whole, my mind replete.
But with that final knowledge the trap became quite clear,
As the old man stood cooing at me and grinning from ear to ear.
Unbreakable the cage was, my form now of a songbird;
My powers and knowledge his to use undeterred.
Twisted and hawked they were for his own thieving ways,
Growing richer whilst I live unknown and forgotten to the end of my days.