Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Magic: I Shall Begin Again

I believe in magic.

The magic of evening thunder, when the world passes around you without pause or consciousness, yet your own overtakes the living thing within you and steals the breath from your lungs.

I believe in the magic of words. Words that are spoken, and those that are sung within the depth of you that only one other soul, plucked from the guf with your own, may hear.

The magic of patience in a time when patience is a lost art, lost among the heads buried inside their gadgets, only to emerge when it behooves their stomachs or wallets or aching boredom.

I believe in the magic of the storm raging outside my window. The second of the day. A voice from across the miles crying to be heard.

I believe in the lost magic of humanity, though my doubts lie in whether it can ever be recovered. Though I believe in its magic, I have lost faith in its ability to wield it.

A toe in the water. The sun on my back. The longing for a third eye of life tracing my body from across a crowded room, knowing my thoughts are echoed, the sensuality of the echo, the sexuality of the ear it captures.

I believe in the magic of my lost talent. One I have suppressed for the tedium of simplicity, the longing for mediocrity within a mind created for so much more.

I believe in the magic of the the shattered glass on which I step. For it shall not cut me, but speak to a life I’ve left untouched for far too long. I believe in the magic of that life. The magic of the voice that speaks to me in hushed tones, in a shadow world where admittance is granted only to those who speak the language of lust, pulchritude, and the simple touch of a finger as it brushes a single hair from my face.

Oh.

There is magic in this world. For those who believe. For those who know they were born in the body of a woman, beneath the umbra of a commoner, yet with the ghost of a goddess who whispers the teachings of flight of soul and golden feet which never tire as they travel between the stars to find their shoes, dangling from a single finger held in wait for the thousands upon thousands of years it has taken me to learn to fly.

I’d like my shoes. I’d like to take that finger in my mouth and taste its magic within its weary callouses. I’d like to thank the face that owns it for its patience. I’d like to thank the spirit the guides it for its faith.

Have faith in me, as I know you do. Believe in the magic of the multiverse. Trust in the path of the strings we cross, and the ones that run parallel to the human lives we’re given.

We were gifted with this magic. And there are no parallel paths we cannot sway askew.

Until we meet again. 


________________________________________________________________________________