Magic
M a g i c comes from the children, living in a world of their own design.
We are magic. Each and everyone of us. Our curse is that we are unaware and look for it elsewhere.
The onyx woman in gold smiled down at Antonio. “Every time you ask that question, magic is created.”
Read the full story here: https://theprose.com/post/326729/prelude-fairy-dust-and-the-dream-realm
Magic is Made
from the snow
drifting to the ground
from your smile
and your unrestrained laugh
from the sound of my footsteps
wandering through the woods
from the warmth of the fire
crackling in the hearth
magic is every moment
if you dare to find it
magic
There is magic in the way you look at me -
as if I'm the only one you see.
The Storyteller’s Pen
Magic hides in moments
An illusionary act
The dusting of its remnants
Gypsum-white on charcoal-black
Magic steals the sunlight
Leaving rainbow’s pot of gold
Reflecting silver starlight
From the eyes beauty beholds
Teller of a mystery
Whose story never ends
And children not yet blind to see
Its disappearing Penn
Magic
Where does Magic come from?
You ask.
Meaning you don’t know
Anything.
Magic is.
Magic was.
Magic will be.
The question you mean to ask is
Where do people come from?
People are the interlopers
Trespassing in a world they don’t belong to,
Bulldozing over Ancient mysteries
With blindness and arrogance
And ignorance.
Dismissing Magic as something for children,
Made up by mothers
And withered old women.
But Magic will not be dismissed.
Magic will not disappear.
Magic will reign once more.
And the wonders of the universe will become clear again
As they are now
To those with Magic eyes.
Magic
Magic is in the wonder.
It's like stardust falling gently on the eyes,
not to blind but to awaken.
Magical Wishing Wells
Magic comes from the pebble stones and wishing wells, pennies thrown into future hopes and tiny waves leading to giant oceans. It created The Wizard of Oz and Judy Garland, getting Dorothy home with three clicks of the heels and a longing. Sometimes magic is a Mary Poppins unbrella in the rain when all I need to do is believe the sun will shine again. If there's ever a voice to be heard in the world, magic is like a quiet friend that taps me on the shoulder when I least expect it. I turn around to see who is there and I'm face-to-face with the the very one I've needed to see that day. I notice these coincidences arrive when I've tripped over time and stumbled on a feeling that comes. The older days of wonderous joy comes to mind and the little girl within me takes a hold of my hand. We walk together and share our magical dreams.
Magic
Magic is being created every day,
every hour,
every second,
every moment.
Everything you see from a little dust mite
to as big as a huge mountain,
is magic.
Magic is happiness,
Magic is sorrow,
Magic is love,
Magic is Hate,
If you really believe, magic is everywhere,
and you don’t have to look far,
just look in the mirror and you would see
MAGIC.
- Reet Sapra