He stands there in the falling rain
At the knees of his master
Clutching his Book of Elements
And knowing where he stands in the night
He mutters the words,
Inaudible to the thunderclaps
And as the water beads off
Feels his body grow cold
He collapses to the ground
And begins to boil
His spirit is of water
And he rises up in a wave
Human in existence
But unbound to any particular form
His master tought him well
Though now he be immortalized in stone
The elementalist is strong
And he knows it too truly
a black void,
merly a gate way into the mind,
a realm shrouded in mystery,
an elementalist stands on guard focusing on one point,
the shadow of a single stone slab,
the beutiful amithist glowing radiently,
is it a thought,
is it his soul,
no... it is his pure essence as he gives in his etire mind and metality
as he opens his eyes and sees the world around him
war violence,
it is all pointless to him for he see's not a wall but an opening
a mere stepping stone,
his steps away leaving his dark thoughts behind
a single peice of amithist forms in the dirt
-joe
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