I Believe in Magic

I believe in magic.

Perhaps not the type we’re used to hearing about. No matter how much I swish and flick my magic wand, I haven’t succeeded in making anything float.

…yet.

There’s another sort of magic that I believe in… one that’s not as simple to explain.

But given the fact that I’m writing about it, this wouldn’t be very interesting to read if I didn’t try.

.

This brew of magic sparks

when strangers share a smile.

It manifests, not in a burst of light, but in an act of kindness

that no one will ever know about.

Potions brewed in the dead of night are replaced

by the comfort of a child in its mother’s embrace.

The magic lives in a silent prayer

and a glistening tear shed.

It thrives in the peaceful silence of the morning,

and in the abrupt laughter of the previously downtrodden.

It’s the magic that engulfs you

when you submerge yourself through paper and screens,

into worlds so real,

you begin to forget your own.

It’s in the hoarse melody of a song not meant to be heard,

and in the warmth of waking up to the sun in your eyes.

I’m glad to say I could go on, but I’d like to leave that up to you.

Look out your window in your car at night as you’re followed by the moon.

Figure things out for yourself, only sorrow lives in the news.

If still you can’t spot what I’m saying, then make your magic in your room.

Make a mess, and make mistakes, but do what you’ve always wanted to do.

Once you see it in yourself, it will start to follow you.

And every day you’ll come across this form of magic too.