The Cauldron

Ahrriss the Wizard grows old
His fingers are knotted and cold
The lines in his grimoire seem blurred
The pages are brittle with mold
His voice strains to make itself heard

Not so long ago
He could conjure the rain or the snow
Or summon a demon
To entertain ladies and lords
Once he read fortunes in smoke
Charted stars for the fae and the folk
Not so long ago
He was seldom ignored

Conuiratio
Resurrectio
Per melodiam

Spiram tumultus
Non est sepultus
Ex sententia

Ahrriss smokes orcweed and broods
Why should ancient Ahrriss be doomed?
Amongst these old parchments and scrolls
These talismans, crystals and runes
A spell to resettle the soul

Tongue from a sparrow that sang in its cage
Liver of dragon pickled in rage
Carpet of spiders
Twang of a bow
Crash of the thunder
Bloom off the rose
Into the cauldron everything goes

Ahrriss smells Death at the door
He unravels time to spin more
Distilling an inhuman brew
The cauldron, it simmers and stews

Not so long ago
He could soar with the ravens
And beckon the South Wind to blow

Hiss of a vulture
Ash of your woes
Tooth from a shark with blood on the nose
Snifter of fire
Seed from a troll
Tears from a maiden who never grows old
Into the cauldron everything goes

The old man retires
Pungent brew in his cup
Black cat curled at his side
Pinch of grave-scented snuff
He takes vellum and quill
Drums a waltz, then he pens

Here lies Ahrriss the Wizard
Until we meet again