Sarabande for Missing Magic

                                 Loss of Wonder ~ Philip Brent Harris


Missing magic, miracles,
All vanished,
Nowhere to be found.
From vast spaces,
Into unseen
Miniscule interstices
Between atoms,
Despite clues,
Maps and legends,
Whispered rumors;
Whereabouts remained

Quests were mounted.
Heroes came forth.
Solo adventurers,
Fellowships, too,
Robber’s trusts;
All trekked far,
Endured miles
Mighty mountains
Storm-wracked seas
Searing deserts

They battled
Mightily and long,
Until broken.
Their journeys
All in vain.
No matter
What you have
Been told.

Others searched.
Beggars, vagabonds,
Gypsy princes,
Fisher kings,
False prophets,
Innocent children,
Fat cats, lay-abouts
Found nothing,
Or false treasure,
Gilded lilies,
Still, no sign
Of any
Missing magic.

Liars proclaimed
Their success.
Their lying lips
Crimson with failure.
Quest and reward
Twisted until
They became

The truth
Hidden inside
Banker’s boxes,
Church offerings,
Shelters, soup kitchens.
Gifts given
And received.
Any place
Least expected.
Almost no one
Knew, remembered;
Almost everyone
Yearned because
Life felt empty.

Imposters promised
Reasons, riches,
Relief, relaxation;
Their lying lips
Crimson with failure.
World and life

Nothing filled
Our empty spaces.
Vast, inside
Utterly alone,
We wandered,
Wondered what if
We found
Our missing part?
Where could we,
Would we fit it?
In glutted lives,
Ransomed to
Useless detritus.

We ran,
Full-tilt chaos.
We could not
Keep up or
Catch up,
Or comprehend
That these people,
These moments
Were our lack,
Our longing
And became hidden,
Hollow, lost,

Ignored people
Called losers,
Lack wits, worse
Still sought
To fill in
Empty places
Within themselves,
Our world.

Magic began
To appear.
Shining forth
In a disregarded
Artist’s paintings.
“He’s mad,” they said.,
Any who noticed
Said, “ignore him.”
Yet glimpses appeared
In a sonata,
Lost to the future.
A Sarabande,
Lost in time.

A buried sculpture
Unearthed the magic.
A comic strip
Laughed the magic.
A rap song
Roused the magic.
A play
Acted the magic.
An aria
Sang the magic.
Graffitied walls
Wanted the magic
Widely to appear

Crimson lips
Failed to stifle,
Gainsay miracles.
They battled magic
Mightily and long,
Until broken.
Their efforts
All in vain.

We will thus
Succeed, despite
What you have
Been told.
Because first one,
Then another,
Realize nothing
Need be realized.
What we, denigrated,
Ignored, feared lost,
Need only be seen.
Stars blazing brightly
After the storm
Has cleared the air.

Possibilities inspired,
Brought to light.
Our world entire,
Our very being,
Magically miraculous,
Miraculously magical.
If only, if only,
If only.

Still, so few,
When they look,
Are able to see,
Willing to share,
Calling for balance,
Seeking sanity.
Do you understand
Our challenge?
Do you recognize
The truth?
All equals all.
Myriad aspects,
Multiple faces
In different places.

Intelligence is not
Language alone
Cannot communicate.
Hubris harbors
Blind belief only
Alienates acceptance.

We must remove
The masks we wear
To navigate
Our daily gauntlet.
Test, trial, win or lose,
Until we stop,
Exhausted, drop.
Lie upon the ground,
Perceive our world around.
Realize what we see
Has always been
Miraculous and magical,
Exactly where we belong.

See more of my creative offerings and opinions at:

Brent Harris Fine Art

Philip Brent Digital Art

Vida Voices

Scriggler TPM

The Extra Mile
Art, shirts and other gift items

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