Some, blinded by life's repulsions
may think magic is myth,
living only in the minds of youth,
unfit for older consumption,
an untruth;
Sad they've dug themselves so deep,
their life force an encrusted dearth,
shrouded with lies thrust against lives,
unable to benefit from joys of
creation endowed at birth;
If only they could soar with a poet's universe,
linger over a glorious symphony,
see sparks fly from a maestro's fingers
unfolding his soul in melodic majesty
lifting listeners from daily trickeries,
permeate a painting to feel color essences,
glide with dancers in ballet flight to feel
the lightness of their presence;
Is magic a myth?
Most see it exists for other than a child
To someone in distress, magic may be
in the shine of your smile.
No comments:
Post a Comment