Abracadabra

Nothing’s
Ever as good as we imagined it?
Or
Everything’s
Better than we imagined it?
I’ve got words to eat
emotions to neglect,
I’ll wash it all down with a glass of pride,
And swallow my complex.
Nothing to follow, no direction.
The only thing I’ve got for sure is my perception.
I know
The inevitability of tornadoes, hurricanes, and heavy rains.
I know
Even old wise trees can set themselves aflame.
Yet
A part of me will always believe
in the beauty to grieve.
Tragedy is art.
Disaster helps heal.
A destroyed heart lets you know,
that feeling is real.
How can we expect to bleed,
if we never get cut?
How can we be whole,
if we never know love?
What a wonder it is
To watch a wound so deep,
mend itself into a fresh piece of flesh.
Everything is as we imagine,
That’s the magic.

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