The light of magic is not a star
To burn forever in the dark
Outliving, outshining our generations

The current of knowledge is not a stream
Flowing from long-living ice
Dwindling as the generations pass

Wisdom is like fire, burning
Knowledge is like a flame
Magic is a flickering candle

A fire dies when covered
Flame yearns for open air
Yearns to spread
Aches to enter new territory
The wax of that candle
Will not last forever

Wisdom is a storm
Knowledge a tempest
But a storm in a bottle
Is not a storm
It is dead water,
Dead air.

Magic exists in motion
Dancing like a conflagration
Twirling around the eye of a storm

You cannot own it.
Yet it can dwell in your bones.
You cannot own it.
So dance with it.