Who Knows If Magic Exists

Who knows if magic exists, if dreams come true and whether miracles take place (all of these things we thought we knew) ... buried in our haste to dig childhood's grave... And though something gets lost along the way, it's never very far -- (and oddly enough never very near) We find it when we least expect (when the sun dips and the moon resurrects) Takes nothing more than some dry brush and a flicker (just enough, mind you, to convince any young squirt you're a wizard) And lo and behold ... a campfire is born! drawing friends and strangers alike. From those uneasy, longing for something more: those that wish to say to their long-traveled fears, "Take a Hike!" We are all Homo-Sapiens astride these flames, this moment, this night. And everything falls into place (and nothing makes sense) We say, "Eat a Snickers, Rat Race!" (and accept it as pretense) For nothing else exists when nature misbehaves such as this: orange and amber flames like twin spirits sparking our inner dialogue. Yet nothing at all do we hear save the sap-filled sophistries exploding in each and every log And yet illumination comes when the darkness of night overtakes We take pleasure in the heat of flames (and friends) simply for own sake... ...like sputterings of contentment, so softly nestled in each hiss and crack (the choir of pine cones bearing witness to all the days we'll never get back; the future nights, never reached) Up like the wisp of smoke we've seen a thousand times before ... poof! Gone like the fireflies we've caught and let slip, jarred and un-jarred, as if repetition was our duty (ain't that the truth) The mysteries of the mind hiding such enchantment at such vapid magic as this: wood burning (in the center of a semi-circle) -searing, as one would a bull, on all who gaze upon its diabolical delight These People! God up in heaven ... this Night! Who could dare contemplate the glory of this present moment ... how bright? Like a pinewood ember longing to join the likes of Leo, the party of Pisces, so to does one's thoughts linger on eternity and the Ever After -experienced in the Now In the company of Capricorn we cogitate the Cosmic Crafter "But it's just a campfire," one might interject "A couple logs and some heat ... nothing more!" ... and yet it sparks such intellect From deep within (you know it to be true) warm tendrils find their way (you can see it peeking through) ... to the surface, something ancient and new, slippery and sure; as mysterious as a mirror darkly (and yet oddly familiar) And who could doubt the conclusion? except those who never put flint to reed and watched a Red Flower bloom Yes, there is something mystical here concerning this brew of pine needles, deadwood and star laden dome roof And yet the paradigm comes back again! The age old question in quest for the truth: "Who knows if magic exists, if dreams comes true and whether miracles takes place?" I know it And so do you