Poem: Magic

A sword in stone

A chalice in hand

A cup that transports you here

Or there

 

Rabbit in a hat

A bag of the winds

Truffles that glisten with the heart

Of your sins

 

Magic in time

Magic in place

Magic to daunt

Magic to face

Magic you know you can’t use in the streets

Magic that all may learn and meet

Magic that’s sweet

Magic that’s dark

Perhaps it all seems to be naught

But a lark

Magic entwined in the science of things

Sorcery wrapped ’round political strings

 

It flows all around us like a Force or a being

In each baby’s smile

In the hearts of us all to keep us beating

And well

While everything else in sadness

Or doubt

Brings nothing but tears

And nothing but shouts

 

The magic in the air

In the books that we read

In the stories we hear from the people we need

That magic is sacred

That magic is real

The magic of all of our voices is real

But

Sealed

in the beliefs of a nation

Our nation

Which grew out of magic

From far

far away

and grew into an age

of today

 

And of wheels

Of today and wheels

And gears that turn

That never stop turning

No matter the hour

No matter the minute

No matter the month that their metal keeps working

An age where the magic we make is the same

Of mass-produced ‘art’

And tales spun of shame

 

True magic misses

This world we have

Floating and flying right by

 

So put down your laptop

Put up your keyboard

Set down the work of your empty labor

Put it all down and send it away

 

Then pick up a pen

From which ink ever sways,

And write

Write,

Write the magic in.

©2013 Sam Oliver (Eris)

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