(no subject)

[spoke]

So, this is one of my poems that I like. Can't think of anything to say riht now, so i'm just going to post this.

Potions

There is a scent as of ancient magic
in this room.
Countless years of students,
have let various fumes;
(mistakes and discoveries)
rise and drift
to permeate the very walls.
Its aura swirls around him
as he teaches.
For once, there is a soul present
that is kindred to the magic practiced here.
Auras mingle, merge,
frighten those that do not have the courage
to test thier own mortality.
Brew fame, bottle glory, stopper death...

Opinions? Anyone?