Day 351: Magic

---

∴

in a sea of children,

there are only a few
that are still searching
for magic;

and there are fewer still
that generate
magic
on their own.

i don’t mean
a hocus pocus kind of magic.
no, not that.

i mean to say,
the ineffable wonder
at our mutually held creation
and the nearly supernatural
sculpting
of thought

that makes our creation
come to new
life,
enhanced
and dancing.

those children are rare.

they grow –
as we grow –

some succumb to the regimen
of adulthood
and adopt their uniforms of state
with trim corners and
manicured lawns.

some go out to the woods
and never come back.

(i wonder sometimes if they happened –
unluckily –
upon some witch’s cottage,
or if they became the witch,
themselves.)

and some are fortunate enough
to be aided
by a wrinkled old raisin of the flesh,
whose spirit still flits like a butterfly’s wing,
and whose eyes are still sharp
for the spark of magic
in others.

though it’s in me to be,
i am not really
either of those –
the child
or the raisin –

but at least,
i can see them.

and i watch
and feel delight
when they grow into each other
and change little corners of the world.

∴

 

 

---