Where You’d Find Magic
If you haven’t found it, you’re not looking in the right place
In rainbows gracing puddles of slime
and incandescent firefly-lit nights
In bodies crumbling into stardust specks
and new toes carved beneath a belly’s flesh
In diamonds adorning the sky’s veil
and footprints of man on moon’s trails
In depths of an ocean surmounted by ships afloat
and skyscrapers towering in cascading hope
In his touch soothing trouble at ease
In his touch swirling a storm in dreams
Magic dwells in parentheses
of manic faith and love’s extremities
It spins itself sick in the ordinary
until wallowing wands weary asleep.
“Magic Is till magic Believed”
Hilda Lewis, “The Ship That Flew”
“There is no magic when one no longer believes.”
