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Wizard

Flames poor from the staff in which he held in his left hand.
For many years he never left his home on the white sand.
Degraded for his magic and his way of fixing life’s pain.
His power seems to take over the mind and drive people insane.
He was not trying to harm the people that was around him.
Just sometimes he lost focuses, when the lights grew dim.
To many voices to concentrate on the spell at hand.
To hard to fly because there’s no where to land.
Rejected for his ways and killed over a crystal ball.
A ball with the powers of what great wizards before saw.
A silver unicorn wonders, waiting for a wizard that will no longer come.
To late to leave, to soon to come, out of the darkness, from where are they from?
They’re black magic makes the crystal glow blood red.
The trader by whom the darkness was lead.
Laying in his blood, defeated by his friend.
There he did die for not meeting demand.
A black magic world soon will rise.
Because a loss of a wizard old and wise.
Who can save the world from the pain that’s upon it?
Who can defeat this power with his wizard wit?

-- 15 May 2015, 17:37 --

I use to write a lot of poetry. Not so much now days though.

I like it. I like the wizard you describe and I like the rhymes. They worked without making the poem predictable. Get back to writing!