Paul J Penton – Songwriter

Magic- Daily Writing – July 27

Abracadabra, Shazzam, open sesame. ‘I love peanut butter jelly’. None of which ever worked for me. Magic passwords that is. Rabbits pulled out of hats with big floppy felt ears, cooing doves , tranquil until released. Dispensed from the end of hanging sleeves. How’s it done? Magic!

Card games, special tricks, packs loaded with indented edges, fingers run along them counting the grooves, knowing what you’re dealing. Remembering the code for what it means thinking quick like a cheetah chasing game, but can’t remember and the magic is gone. The moment falls flat.

Magic, when the universe opens up and I drop in the lap of the muse as it passes. I ride on coat tails of unbridled imaginings. Taken to the far ends of the universe and back again. Remembering it as if it’s a dream. Left with a residue of ideas that must be forged and shaped and practiced and remembered. Hard work, but keep an eye on the original. Don’t lose it. Don’t lose the perfect precious valuable diamonds and gold, silver and Myrh. They can’t compare with the price of that magic. Can’t be bought, can only be inspired. A magic carpet ride on the inside.

Conjuring things from behind the cloak of your soul, revealing them to the world. Who else gets that chance, to bight into an insight, to taste it’s fresh zesty citrus smell. Electric shocks, palpitations, light sabre imaginings. Given wings hanging up high above the earth looking down and understanding, Peter Pan breezes flowing across my skin as I go diving down again to the thick cement of reality, the elephant time that drags by with too much certainty. Time that now seems to elude me. Oh how I wish to be twenty, where it was treacle time and the world was just jogging. Now it’s gone by in a blink and everybody’s sprinting. Gone in nothing and unless you weave magic from the fabric of time it’s another day wasted.