The wizard snapped awake, no longer idle was his mind,
he cast about to see who spied him, quiet in the night.
He did not care to think about how denizens unkind
would treat a wayward wizard who could not bring himself to fight.
It had long since passed that happy tidings had faded from his head,
and now his only hopeful purpose in continuing this life,
was to hope beyond hope that the one he loved was not really, truly dead.
If not, his heart was lost, cut out by life's cruel knife.
The conjurer fair that he betrayed with his foolish quest for power,
was now his quest, his life's only redemptive force,
and if she retorted with monstrous rage and pushed him from his tower,
he would fall in peace, redeemed at last, and streak back to the Source.
sensation, deprived, dread