Therein your Magic could never be blamed
Which God and Nature created for you
At least in Process which had to be named
To blunt those Spikes in whatever you do
I say Spikes - since they un-exist on-board
And focus that Blue whose Hands beg your call
Whilst flashes and sparks your Body they hoard
As they Rise and witness your Winning Fall
Force this Admission! Many want your Piece
Size Fantasy or Fact they still Demand
And you - devolved - laugh your Arm's only Fleece
By yours Encircled they cry Reprimand.
Essense Beknown, your Truth indeed does Wound
Less Blade or Bullet; Or even a Sound.