The Magic

the magic poem Anastasia Kis

In Humans silent interested eyes

Through years of travelling around

I’ve seen a prying question rise

If somewhere There the magic’s found.

Primarily, could you describe for me

What you define the magic as an object.

It is a topic I cannot reveal for free

Not knowing what you do expect to hear.

What did you say? Stop, please, just stop.

Do not confuse these written concepts.

It makes me laugh from toes to top

When you draw dragons from on sets.

So, you believe that giant dreadful creatures

And boy who speaks Latin and Parseltongue

Are true manifestation of the magic features

That in realms from films and books were sung.

I am not sure what I should start with in my story

So that not to make you sad or disappointed.

Because the Magic as I saw and see it here and there

With the opinion of you is ridiculously disjointed.

First of all, I want you to accept the fact

Not everyone around you is a dedicated fan

Of myths and legends by the writers backed

In order to inspire thirsty souls of men.

My point of view is sort of odd but plain.

It’s not about what I do believe in.

It is an overwhelming picture and I am fain

To share with you the secret hidden.

No, wait, I’m wrong in calling it a secret.

You’ve known it for ages in your dimension.

In fact, you’re able to observe it often albeit

You do not always pay to it enough attention.

Still cannot get what I am talking now about?

Just give yourself another moment to calm down.

You’ll realize that Magic’s not inside but out

Existing underneath, above, close by, around.

It’s neither creature nor an object.

It’s not about casting spells.

It lives much closer you’d expect

By looking for the common sense.

It’s hidden deep inside the rain and rainbow.

It often hides behind the Sun and Moon.

It runs away from Humans eyes in river’s flow

It’s hovering above you like Universe’s croon.

It dwells in the crowns of ancient trees

In the deepest vents of volcanoes.

It travels through the worlds at ease

Occasionally sleeping under winter freeze.

It lives around you unnoticed

It lives in you, has always lived.

It waits for you to be focused

On world inside you so naive.

The Magic isn’t something certain.

You cannot touch it, catch or use.

It’s hidden right behind Nature’s curtain

It can be felt like insight or the muse.

The real Magic common for the Universe

Is nothing less than Nature at its core.

Its startling forms are vivid, shining and diverse

And somehow common for my home and yours.

Anastasia Kis