Saturday, August 7th 2004, by Marissa A Spencer
No Magic
I heard it muttered that there is no magic in the world
The slamming doors of imagination closed in
And they stood there alone in the cold.
If they would open their eyes
The stars would appear and the planets would sing.
"No magic", they say,"no mystery, no wonders."
When standing ‘neath the aged oak
Doth not the leaves shake when you raise your hands to heaven?
If the loon’s mournful cry is heard across a midnight lake,
Are there not chills that creep into your soul?
Don’t you hear the whispering brook,
And the eyes that watch from the darkness?
See the fairy lights in the quiet meadow.
Feel the darkness of a cave.
Hear the crackling and scrape of life everywhere…
Seen and unseen. Solid and spirit.
The question may be, "Are you really here?"
I can see you, but I don’t think you can see me.
You turn away, muttering again,
“There is no magic”.
©November 19, 2000, August 7,2004 Marissa A Spencer
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