Why are we afraid of magic?
_
From the ocean’s breath
woven through my body
threading the soul
From the mountain’s peak
slicing my veins open
until they flow like rivers
From the forest floor
soaking up my decomposing body
replenishing the dirt
From the starlight
capturing my gaze, guiding me
to the edge of the universe
_ _
in motion
the world moves with me
while my brain tries to stand
still
i am in motion until i am not
rationality struggles to accept
death
indeterminacy becomes chaos
but my existence yearns to question
life
the way its been oriented, organized
and its residual impacts
_ _ _
have we been uprooted?
trained, domesticated to fear
the unpredictable?
even as the search for predictability
creates misery around us
the desire to control and know
persists to our own demise
the godlike complex is in perpetual crisis
it cries for purpose, fulfills it through violence
_ _ _ _
but magic isn’t real, right?
it’s not verifiable, doesn’t make sense
where does it come from?
every trick can be explained
for the audience
even if it ruins the fun
_ _ _ _ _
the carnival of life forecloses
as we try to rationalize our dreams
our nightmares, our queerness
the unexplainable is impossible
the pursuit of reason continues
has us slipping from our fingertips
and so i think… [_]
i guess
why are we afraid of magic?
