I once thought of writing about magic,
But words wound up in a tightly curled ball
And refused to unfurl.
I tugged, and pulled
And squeezed and pried
But they wouldn't open.
Maybe magic wasn't as ripe as I thought it was.
So I tossed the ball away,
Far, far away.
And it opened up;
Like the first flower bud
On the cusp of fresh spring;
A little shy,
Mustering up the courage to be bold and
Let its petals feel the sweet, gentle wind.
And out came the letters,
Tender like the first drops of dew on a cloudy day;
Within each drop,
The entire world fit, snug;
Till it drizzled down to be one with the same world it echoed.
Far and wide like dandelions carried around by wind;
For a moment,
It looked like the universe had inverted,
And black stars brightened the clear blue skies.
And then they dissipated,
Carried far and wide with the ethereal wind.
Some fell onto me like
The warm kisses of a doting Sun on a cold winter morning;
And some flew away,
Forever out of my sight,
Soon to be in another's.
And as I soaked in their soft caress,
I felt the magic I sought to create;
Rise up within me,
Ebbing in and flowing out,
Free as the waves.
And that's when I knew,
The magic I sought to create in my name,
Belonged to no one,
Answered to no one,
And once released,
As their own.
Stardust shining on a resplendent night sky,
Made of us.
Ever felt the need to express yourself, and realized that no matter how hard you try, you cannot be completely understood? There's always a bit of distance between what you express and what is understood by another; mostly because we're all limited by own awareness and perceive the world through our own lenses. However, this human need to express self or to be understood can sometimes be supremely overwhelming; and an inability to transmute this into reality may shake our very foundations of trust/being with self and others.
So are we doomed? This prose explores the possibility of a happier beyond. The possibility that what we want exists, but in different forms in everyone. The idea that moment we let go of the need to be related to and start relating, the stardust within us will recognize the other and remember all that we've forgotten: We are the I.