March 8, 2015
by Jay Scott Berry

We are ever seeking Magic,
High up and far away.
And forget that it is always here,
Alive in every day.

We seek the Mystery high and low,
Imagining supernatural.
And forget the quintessential truth,
That Magic is always natural.

You can hear the disillusioned cry,
That Magic doesn’t exist.
While it merrily dances before their eyes,
And this somehow they’ve missed:

It is woven within the rainbow,
And the dream of a butterfly.
It dances with the snowflakes,
And sparkles in the sky.

It shines in every sunrise,
And whispers in the trees.
It blooms with every flower,
And waltzes with the breeze.

It is closer than a heartbeat,
And nearer than each breath.
It is found in every birth,
And, alas, in every death.

Ineffable as a twilight dream,
A Mystery to bind us.
And once we open up our hearts,
The Magic will always find us.

michael mirdad