Everyone I admire is dead, poor, or an enemy of the state.
Everyone I love is indebted, a wage slave, an outlaw, brainwashed, or ill.
Every job I want is nonexistent, occupado, or against the law(s of man).
Every thing I fear has already come to pass.
Every thing I hope for, they (you) tell me can’t be done.
Every time I tell the truth I’m swiftly punished.
Every time I lie...
...a dollar appears.
Every day I wake up with intentions of ending the war.
And every night I go to sleep another of its victims.
Every sigh of moon sets my heart a-flutter.
And every sip of sun tastes strongly like a gift.
This one is for you who wonder quietly where magic resides.
It is not the purview of any particular priest, or age, or clergy. It belongs to all of us, the birthright of all creatures call Earth home, and every bit of starstuff beyond.
It awaits patiently, waiting to be claimed by those would but reach out and touch it.
It can be glimpsed, in moments brief and nights long, alike.
It shimmers, shakes, quivers, shatters, oozes, glows, rattles, burns
Falling photons shimmering suspended in the arc of the rain’s breath
Incandescent rock rivulets born of beasts like Kilauea and Vesuvius which
It does not hide, but is freely discovered those whose minds are willing to receive:
Filtered light of trees sent acinder. Cannabinol-laden clouds arcing tightly towards the stratosphere
Supple thigh rippling beneath helianthus-yellow sundress, lapping in the new spring breeze.
Crystal dance of daybreak on freshly fallen snow— listen. The world goes white and muffled save for the sound of fronds crackling gently underfoot. A doe picks at new growth, her belly full of new growth, more hope for the species.
A LeMat cap claps, powder sparks, balls fly, a man is slain today (5th of May), and another venerated.
Telephonics too: a thought occurs in my head as electrical, chemical, and [???] signals. It propagates, zooms from brain down the nerve highway where the muscles relay. On a microscopic scale protein pumps ferry ions across axons’ membranes— pull back and my fingers tap across the screen, thought forms ride radio waves (und unterseekabel) beaming it to you. It’s elements in between, energy, frequency, & vibrations, waveform patterns which peak periodically and weak forces at microcosmic levels imperceptible to creatures conceited as we.
Woven in the code of the caterpillar, who enters her chrysalis crawling but climbs free of it on iridescent wings— held aloft on air alone.
It beLongs to me, and to you. No really, you there, neck craned on the subway scrolling, or maybe standing outside in the fields, fiending for fresh air on a sunny Saturday.
The magic is yours.