Poem 7-9-2009

The page turns and pulls me in deeper
The lights, the sounds, the smells, the creatures
Gesticulate, play and dance so convincingly
The world spins in the place of adventure quite differently

Explosions of magic that threaten and heal
Mirror the universe those around me call real
But not in their imagery or dramatic ways
Instead, here the magic is subtle, it sways

Like a tree in the breeze or a lovers embrace
That magic is written all over their face
If flutters, it wobbles, it rises with the sun
It breathes in and out, it fills up our lungs

Magic or Science, I can't tell them apart
I see them as branches of the very same art
Like painting with oils, watercolors, or acrylic
And yet this world is the realm of the cynic

A physical form which give us so much
The scents, the sights, the sounds and the touch
Also create limits, a hindrance a crutch

That it is not within our sensory range
then it must not be real, it's just the strange
The ramblings of a mad persons mind
But, do me this favor, If you'll be so kind. 

Explain to me how you are so sure of these things
When I can never be sure, when it all seems a fling
An escapade, a tryst, a lovers affair
The beliefs of today feel as thin as the air. 

By Alyse Wisneski