The Higher Staff

The very stick of young spirits,
Is a famous staff of higher light.
The many joints and many tools
Have many reasons of magic.
Let magic sway its empty strength
Through this staff of distress, the distant one,
Any one has possession of this instrument
Of destruction.
The spirits erupt from enemies and coil
Into the shadows so well,
That answers fly when the staff is given to its owner.
The owner lost it this time when he dropped it from
Its heavy hotness and heat energy.
The very stick I call upon to kill
Is again in my control,
Now that the mage became a distant enemy.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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