The Last Wizard

I found him seated on a stone
Staring down the hill up which I'd come.
"So you're the one my summoning has sent?"
He asked as I drew near.
"It should not be that no one now can dream large dreams
And see the world with visionary eyes,
While dark warlocks cast their noxious spells
That cloud our minds with baseless fears.
But alas, the final summoning stands complete;
My staff lies broken at my feet."

"I am the last practitioner of those arts,
Which bend unguessed forces to my will
To change the world for good or ill.
I am old according to that count of years
Which frames the reckonings of men.
Only Merlin will yet live on,
Because I am no demon's spawn
Nor lie I spellbound in a crystal cave,
Eternal prisoner of Viviane's twisted love.
I've lived out my life; I've aged."

"My death approaches.
I hear it in the wind
And feel its measured step within the earth beneath.
The clear water tastes of death--my death.
I am at once diminished and enlarged.
Soon now I will be gone.
I'd hoped that you would be the one to carry on."
With flash and fire he vanished then,
And I gazed in wonder at his empty seat
While now his broken staff lies at my feet.