Magic

Someone once asked me if I believed in magic . . .

I believe there’s magic in that first 

descent of gracefully glistening snowflakes in the prelude to a storm.

There’s magic in the twinkling lights of the night sky when you find yourself tangled up in the tapestry of our little piece of the universe. 

There’s magic in the notes of the music that moves your body and drives you to dance when not a soul is around to see.

It’s in the spaces between their fingers, right where you’re most at home, 

intertwined as implicitly as can be.

         

There’s magic in the places that draw you, whether it be to mountain tops or the depth of the deep blue sea.

And there’s magic in your passions and what leads you to be.

There’s magic in the unknown; 

It lies in the void between searching and doubt. The magic is the possibilities, and the room for wonders and figments of imagination. 

So yes, I think I do believe in magic. 

For how tragic an existence it would be to dwell in this world and to not;