I do not believe in magic, yet I still see beauty without it. It is an ability that few possess now.
The religious claim that we can break the temporal bonds of our earthly existence and live forever. We were created with purpose by God, in His very own image no less, they proudly proclaim.
Some of us can communicate without speaking, the spiritualists say. A good deed will rectify past ugliness thus helping one achieve a more satisfactory personal cosmic balance sheet they believe. Some say that the more enlightened of us possess the power to heal the complicated ailments of others with simple manipulations of their internal spiritual energies.
Others see a sentient Mother Earth who consciously cares about the life residing on her thin skin and who mourns when her environment changes.
The smell of an approaching Spring storm. The soft, rose-colored glow of a sunset shared with others. A tender letter from a missed friend. The stirring panorama of stars when viewed from a dark mountaintop. A badly needed embrace from a loving friend. Perhaps those things don’t compare to eternal life or minds that can read the thoughts of others or healing energies or the personification of the amazing orb beneath our feet. But for all of humanity’s faults, for all of the earth’s faults, for all of the universe’s faults I need no magic to see their blinding beauty. The more magic we place within them, the more obscured their loveliness becomes.
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