Guardian of mysteries, none can see what he knows Draped in robes of starlight, scholarly beard of snow A gentle spirit but a holder of great might Weaving the threads of destiny in endless fabrics of time With the soul of a giant and a heart of gold The wonderment of a child whose stories yet told He spoke in rhymes of timeless lore But as stars must fade, so must tales of old A twinkle in his eye, a tear falls on his beard The final sunset, he knows his end is near He travels towards the sky, it fades to black from blue Back to his home amongst comets and the Moon His fingers flicked tales of old and new Of dragons that chuckled and fairies that flew With his magic staff carved from the core of an oak He conjured countless mysteries simply in single strokes The wizard looks upon his starry map Crafting futures while mending pasts In his hand he holds his great staff Gripping tight as he ponders then laughs He knows he's the last wizard indeed Not a trace of fear, not a speck of greed As sure as spring will turn the hills a verdant green His magic will persist, omnipotent yet unseen