There was a magic place. Only those who inhabited this place, did not realize the level of magic that dwelled there. For the magic was indeed alive.
It lived in every tree, every growing thing. It lived in the mammals and the birds, in the crawdad that lived along the bottom of the creeks that cross the land. It lived in the rocks that covered the small, narrow, dead end road. It lived in the rocks molded by the native Americans who has passed that way so many years ago. This time, was special, if only they realized. If only they knew.
But the children, were children. Summers were meant for play. Even the time spent in the garden where so much of their food would be grown, was an enjoyable time. The adults, so busy at being adults and providing for the children, set the magic aside. It was not something of great importance.
But magic, is not to be denied. It shows itself in many forms.The simple pleasures of childhood. The fun and games that will reappear somewhere down the long road of life, as memories. The adventures that as a child seemed incredible and exciting. Finding your way through the woods that in youth seemed so vast and filled with mystery. Climbing to the tops of trees, to sway in the wind and look out across the landscape, master of the universe or at least that tree.
As a teen, giving you a place to find solace and balance when the world outside doesn’t understand. Where the uniqueness that is you, is accepted just as you are.
As an adult, needing healing from the evils of the outside. Where the world is real and real has a dark side.
The magic calls, it draws the once child, now adult back to the magic, back to the healing. The woods are alive, the winds sing among the trees, a song long missed. A song of the ages past. The waters of the creeks whisper the tales of long ago, memories of those who had walked that way before. Above, the many branches of the trees, the leaves dancing to a rhythm all their own, singing, chanting, calling to the ones below, remember.
The magic has never left, it remains waiting.Magic, doesn’t die. For magic is love and love is magic and it calls to the heart and whispers to the soul. Magic brings dreams and offers hope. It doesn’t live just here or there, it isn’t relegated to one place and one place alone. It lives in the hearts and minds of all, just waiting to be kindled into something special. To be planted and blossom into something beautiful.