Before me sat an angry young man,

Confused and wounded.

A soldier fighting too many enemies

And not know who they really were.

Before me sat an angry young man,

wanting his way in all that he did.

And not knowing what path to take to find his way in the world.

This young man,

reluctantly tried

to keep his armor from getting scratched by me.

Me, a worthy opponent he knew not what to make of,

let alone believe.

He struggled and fought and tried every trick.

And flashes of magic seemed to finally come, though sparingly at first.

A stumble, a trip, but still on his path

with book in hand, soon beginning to understand what it was all about.

Here sat before me

A handsome young man,

believing in miracles when he could remember that they were all around.

This young man, who had walked behind me,