This life is made up
of symphonies
and capacities –
symphonies of sensation,
tickled, dribbled,
splashed and savored
across the theater
of your mind;
capacities,
all equal
yet unequal,
some able to skim only the surface,
others diving right in,
swimming expertly through meaning,
interpreting a few slices of sound.
This life is made up
of matter,
made up
of atoms and molecules,
made up
of electrons and protons,
made
in a vacuum.
What else would you call an illusion?
Conjuring everything from nothing.
The only Reality
is the magnificent Magician,
Who,
with one word,
one breath,
brought forth
the most blissful symphonies,
the most diverse capacities.
Do you want to see another trick?
If you so choose,
if you believe,
you can dismantle this dream you inhabit,
reconstruct it into something new.
You can turn pain into pleasure,
water into wine.
You can create an illusion
more to your liking
because this Magician
never hides His secrets.
He reveals them in plain sight.
You create words to grasp them,
despite knowing,
they are ungraspable.
You try, yet fail,
try, and fail again,
to find Him.
If you aren’t careful,
your frustration at figuring out
just how in the world
He performed
His vanishing act,
might blind you to the beauty
of what’s visible.
You understand only as much as He allows.
Let Him use you as His paintbrush,
but also His paint,
so He may know Himself better,
despite knowing
He is unknowable.
You see, you aren’t just the art,
you’re also the artist.
the song and the singer,
the thought and the thinker,
the way and the witness.
Oh, what magic you can make!
What magic He sparks within you,
and through you,
and around you.
Like these words dancing on the page before you,
conjured from your feelings and fingers.
These letters making love to the listeners’ ears,
exuding energy,
departing meaning,
unlocking entryways.
His gift
to you,
from you,
and for you.
What magic, indeed!
You see, you aren’t just the audience,
you’re also the illusion.
lovelorn 