I live on top of a mountain;
there are no roads to my house.
Only those who can fly can come
visit me. Shape shifters are
welcome, but only if you shift
on the wings of love.
I live in the bottom of the ocean,
from land my home you can not see.
The sea is full of magic, pearl making,
swirls of color, shape shift and visit me.
What if shape shifting is not only in
ancient stories? What if, as we
metamorph, we will once again fight
battles by surrounding our enemies
with fog, then slip away, or become
a hawk and soar above the madness?
Just remember to shift back when it is
time or forever be locked into that form.
We can say this magic does not exist, but
there are much stranger things going on.
If you cover your eyes and ears, then
stand out in the rain, you still get wet.