There is magic
in the echoes,
in the throes of hope,
it flows like arrows
through the atmosphere.
The lost remnants of expression
left to float the heavens.
A rowboat built of a single word
left to sweep the waves of the sky.
It exists in the tricks of the night,
the way moonlight touches
the surface of a lake,
always giving its light.
It is never there to take
just to offer insight.
There is magic in
slipped lost words that
swoop away from lips
in breathless release.
Without ears to call their home,
they just roam. Waiting
until the right moment
to let their light emit,
to cast their magic gift.
To lift the hearts
of the trodden down.
You must be patient when these words
are floating around surveying the environment.
They are always
seeking the twist in the energy
where love slips in
through the gaps
in the universal cracks.
There is magic,
though it often sits
unheard,
waiting on the curves
of one special word,
it drifts between blurred visions
to energise the hearts
of the ones who have lost touch
with the universal rhythms.
It twirls through the air,
as if embracing in a slow dance
with the moonlight glare.
It just wants to share that word
with everyone out there
but there is only so much
magic to spare. So, it seeks those
whose hearts are beating in sync.
It gives its word in a blown kiss
from a shooting star.
The word of love
from somewhere so far
planted firmly on two beating hearts.
Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff
continue to do this.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
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