Something Magical

There is something magical about the world when you love something. Love something so much that your life burns hot with need, and soars into heavenly skies. I am reminded of Icarus, though my wings are not sewn with wax. They’re made of fire like those of a phoenix, who roars and thunders into the sky. I suppose to those on the ground, I will look like the sun. They will shy away from me, for I am too bright. Their wariness will not keep me from flying. I could never land.

The clouds are my home. They greet me in hellos and never goodbyes. I walk along them with fairy feet, they tickle my toes as I near them. Gravity never tries to pull me under. I suppose he looks at me with derision. I can only laugh as he sneers. Gravity is a grumpy old man.

At night, I am a star. A young, naïve star who has yet to learn how the world loves to burn. I greet the moon, dance along her smiling shores. She greets me in waves that I can only dare to swim under. I belong in the sky, not the depths of the sea. The water sounds like singing birds, and I hear flutes from willow trees.

There is something magical when you love yourself. There is nothing in the world that doesn’t feel like magic.