In the aged tomb of a mysterious mage,
Lies a fortune no one has ever dreamt,
Fortified with dark brawny occult chains,
Hidden, yet the pure-hearted get the way.
He picked the clay jar gently with care,
Revealing the cave with markings’ flare,
Reading ancient scripts he barely knew,
It’s the right place, that he firmly knew.
Freezing wind hustled in the sealed cave,
As he strip opened the tight lid with craze,
Emerged the smoke with a voice he freed,
Astonished, dropped the jar, smoke relieved.
What do you wish? I’ll give one you seek,
So it’s true! creature of tales, not a freak,
Like a cloud, patiently waiting for the word,
He already knew, but unsure about its odd.
You certain? You could’ve asked anything!
Nothing but a smile, staring at the smoke.
He’d read the tales, fascinated thenceforth,
To Despair what made who he is, therefore.
Once a divine, cursed, detained, wings slit,
Waiting for a worthy offering, to be freed,
Been used, to be locked in the cage again,
Never thought one of this worth, ’til he came.
With relief of eternity, granted the wish of his,
Smog vanished, he subsided yet with a bliss,
Held him on her arms, still weak, still nourishing.
Placed her warm lips, breathing her breath in.
Through the blur, saw the eyes filled with love,
Ebony hair, cherry lips, visage of an Elven dove,
Heart full of fervor, he knew he was right along,
This Djinn at the end was the one waited so long.
