There are many
So fearful
And jealous
Unhearing and hardcore
Stunted repressed and insecure
They despise most
The light of magic
They choke
On your every joyous invocation
And your continuous calm creativity
As they crouch obscured
Reaching from the darkness
Pretending to intend
to be pulled out
Till instead they struggle
To drag you in
And under
You must love these broken fools
These fallacious follies
These fated fakes
These tragic traps
Who long to snuff out your shine
You are greater than these haters
With your playful prayers
Love their rivalry
Love their challenge
Love the race with these rabid irritants
Love their desperation for your destruction
And most of all
Love their irrelevance
Cast your brightest spells
In the darkest hell
And allow these imps of no importance
To fade like waning shadows
Do not vie
With the violence of their envy
You are a mystic
And they
Are just mist