Magic
You give me nothing to hold, and for this
are blessed. Devotion
is a mirror and breath, one
solid and illusory, the other
needed yet expelled, taken, dispersed.
Which begs another question
not relying on tricks.
“Who traces names on the sheets?” you ask.
I roll up my sleeves and say “Words
conceal what the glass cannot.”
Source becomes deed, becomes habit.
In your hand a stone, a dove, the unbroken ring.
* * *
“Magic” is included in my chapbook, From Every Moment a Second, and was first published in Taos Journal of International Poetry and Art.
O at the Edges 
Nice accompaniment. Interesting that you switched the words “glass” for night in the second last stanza. Part of your magic?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, just a minor revision…
LikeLiked by 2 people
Actually thought it worked better.
LikeLiked by 1 person
And thank you for the thumbs up on the music. It’s a fragment that I messed with for a while. I’m not much of a musician, but I enjoy making noise. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
You do better than I could. Welcome
LikeLike
Beautiful recording of a beautiful perspective/puzzling/confidence
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, those things we conceal even (or especially) from ourselves!
LikeLiked by 1 person