‘Twas magic made this world
No word off tongue was twirled
Just conjurer, not god
Survived despite the odds
No map nor destiny
Never, purposely
Confetti tossed in air
Then landed without care
Created and destroyed
Mere litter to be toyed
What glory to be found
When sprung forth from the ground
Such possibilities
From plains to open seas
Yet pain in every breath
No choice in Life or Death
When time spent in between
Will justify the means
Can everything in balance
Like potion poured in chalice
Determine who is first
To quench eternal thirst…?
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