The Elven Fire

Photo by Juliana Stein on Pexels.com

Shaneise, a little birdie told me of your b-day.
There is so much good stuff for her to say.
You’re the only one shes ever connected.
So deeply, as if by universe, you were selected,
And your fashion sense does apparently slay.

So just like her sister’s poem before you,
You get a very special rhyming tale too
A tale of a woman so natural and wise
One who helps others in a state of demise
Adding yet another Gryffindor to the slew

This tale will be of a magical woman
That was bound to no mortal man
She came from the land of dragonshire
And to be a fashion model she did aspire
To show the world her skin ever so tan

But little did she know about her past
Of how much magic her line had amassed
900 years of magic concentrated down
Now triggering the final countdown
To the cleansing of the great Belfast

1000 years ago the great seer saw
Images of when the land would thaw
‘Tis when the great evil will be free
To corrupt from the land to the sea
But he wouldn’t be any ole outlaw

As Shaneise was born way too soon,
Another born to an Aquarian moon,
She was left to a fragile single mother
But then she was passed to another
As the sun rose on a hot day in June

Taken away before she could learn
About the inner magics that burn
So she led a eccentric girl’s unique life
Accompanied by lots of grief and strife
From a mother that was greatly stern

The ragged clothes she always wore
Greatly affected her to her very core
So every day she plotted her escape
For a life that she could reshape
And by that she absolutely swore

One day she saw an opened door
An escape she could easily score
For there was a call for females tall
To model in Belfast and bare it all
This was what she was made for

She arrives to the Celtic city
Looking like grace and beauty
The city was sprawling and grand
Ready for molding at her hand
And not ready for one so pretty

From here the story gets good
In a land where evil once stood
A pretty little wood elf now resides
In fashion she makes great strides
Magically weaving cloak and hood

But then a strange thing occurred
When she read an ancient word
Her unseen runes went neon
Her magic now fully turned on
Her vision blurry and words slurred

The power rushed through her core
Dropping her to the cold hard floor
She rose with rune tattoos glowing
Strength and power now overflowing
The elf is now ready for the new war

As the shockwaves rocked the nine hells
And penetrated the space-time parallels
Lord Dughall new the time had come
And sounded the demon war drum
Into Shaneise flooded ancient spells

The Lord Mayor unleashed the nether
The tear brought dark, stormy weather
The people of Belfast dropped to knees
Uttering prayers in repeats of threes
But Shaneise pulled them all together

As unimaginable evil rapidly descended
The entire town she fervently defended
earth, air, fire, water, and aether merged
So that the horrible evils could be purged
In the beautiful lands that were contended

Lord Dughall descended to the battle field
With is demon enchanted sword and shield
Shaneise’s power was almost depleted
But the Lord Mayor was overly conceited
The young elf refused to get herself killed

With her strength now almost expended
She lifter her head with her arms extended
With her last breath, she dug deep within
And the runes lifted off of her elven skin
The explosion had time and space bended

As evil was defeated and nether closed
Shaneise’s body lay lifeless and exposed
But the story wasn’t over for the heroine
The girl from Gryffindor had narrowed in
Primrose came and her life was reimposed