Lightning flashes from the wizard's hand,
bringing his creation down.
The thing refused his every command,
he remembers with a frown.
Only he knew what for them was best,
that fact they could not believe.
A well-practiced spell kills off the rest,
rending the sorcerous weave.
With whispered word he does teleport,
back to within his tower.
Drained by this method of transport,
he pulls in more raw power.
A swirling mass rises from the stone,
sculpting itself to his form.
The wizard sits down upon his throne,
idly summoning a storm.
His mage constructs would never obey,
and seemed so desperate to die.
Only the smart ones would vow to stay,
though never questioning why.
Casual words summon fire sprites,
that rush to prepare his tea.
Succubi wait to furnish delights,
at his side on bended knee.
Time itself stopped not his ravages,
falling to ruin instead.
Peopled by ignorant savages,
this world is already dead.
The gods' imperfect work he does spurn,
knowing he can do better.
For eons the wizard did but learn,
true magic does unfetter.
Saddened by the loss of so much flesh,
on divine failure he broods.
A brilliant idea hits him afresh,
lifting darkly morose moods.
Whispering forth iron-clad commands,
he summons fearsome powers.
They listen in awe to his demands,
then scurry from his towers.
One spell creates a crystalline sphere,
diamond hard though made of glass.
On it unicorn blood he does smear,
creating a crimson mass.
In the sphere appears a crimson cloud,
boiling in upon itself.
To reveal the core it does enshroud,
he adds heart from a dark elf.
The elements shape his creation,
as the gods did shape this world.
To their work he adds inspiration,
like gryphonic wings unfurled.
Though mighty works always leave him drained,
for this he drains himself more.
The goal he seeks no one has attained,
nor even mastered the lore.
Cataclysmic magic rocks the land,
depleting arcane reserves.
Exigent need flows through his command,
then dances along his nerves.
Vacuous flashes of blinding night,
pour madness into his brain.
No wizard has attempted such might,
for caution is their refrain.
Within the sphere floats a precious orb,
a truly artistic piece.
Wizardly lifeforce it did absorb,
birthing a world from caprice.
Well pleased the wizard starts to play god,
losing his pessimism.
He walks now a path many have trod,
Now and forever, my heart hears ~one voice~.