Of Magic, and Choices

I've been told that theres no such thing as magic, that such a thing is simply a fairy tale meant for children who are too young to handle the world. I've been told that if magic were real it would be a sin and to practice it would be a slight against god. I've been told that magic is circles and candles in a dark room, that it requires special chants and words of old to evoke the latent powers around us. Obviously these people have never written a poem, or listened to the song of an artist or gazed at a lovely painting in the pale moonlight. For such things are where true magic lies as with each stroke of a passion tipped pen breads beauty, not sin. Pen to page in a flurry of mystic energy a world is born of nothing and yet a single drop falls cascading into an endless rippling sea. This world is already started but if i hand you the pen, what will your world be?