| You, the Magician You are magic, making the miracles: made me believe in a day without sun, that on dark nights the moon will light a path leading me to you and another life. You have made me believe in summer rains that wash away my fears for love and life. You have made me believe the gentle winds will carry my wishes and dreams to you. You are magic, like ways ancient and wise: you are medicine men centuries old, you are sweat lodge, you are ceremony. You are the smoke that rises from the sweet grass that smudges the skin that prays for the tribe. You are prayer sent and prayer answered. (I am jealous of you, I hate myself) I want to catch the falling stars from my sky as always, they burn out when they are touched. When my light burns out, when my life is spent I'll sit with coffee and cigarettes in the dark waiting for it all to end. You said once, magic happens in silence so I wait to become the magician, waiting to make myself believe again I want to reach and pull love from the hat and I want to always pick the right card. I want to pull dreams from my empty hands. (On some days I lie to myself) I believe in what is not when I lie and I become the moments I cherish the moment earth stood still from the first kiss. my magic is warm quilt on cold night, it is thought tightly wrapping around me holding me and never letting me go. In these moments I know what magic is; I want the moon to follow me again. * * * |