What Is Magic?

Magic is not at the end of a wand,
Nor in potions and incantations.
Magic is in your guileless smile,
Peaceful spirit in all situations.

Magic is in the brief, knowing glance
Of pure love conveyed without words.
Two hearts beat with same rhythm,
One domain merged from two worlds.

What is love but a magical experience,
Caring not for myself, but for you,
Happily deferring my needs for yours,
All presumptions cast into the blue?

Magic is gazing through your eyes at
Shimmering rainbows in sunlit fountains,
Deepest green of dense, dewy forest,
Red-orange sunset cast on white mountains.

Magic is holding no expectations
Of what you can do for me, but
Giving of myself whatever you will take,
And honoring who you care to be.


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