The mystery of magic is creation,
but it hurts, it is a painful process,
like a child is born in blood and horror,
so is any act of creation something of a crucifixion
in the tough ordeal of getting there
and reaching the result of durability,
the mystery of getting something out of nothing,
the impressing spellbinding effect
of the presence of the spirit of creativity,
which pervades and rules the universe
and all our lives in the most dreaded form
of destiny or fate, the tragedy of life and death
which becomes the more inspiring the more suffering it brings,
and there you are: the end result of magic,
the mystery of something getting into being
with a lasting and profound effect to stay
and remain productive and in charge
as part of the sustained dimension
of continuous timelessness.

Poetry by Christian Lanciai The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2011-05-05 at 14:10

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The "tough ordeal of getting there and reaching the result of durability" . . . you have done just that. Certainly one of your best, and one I especially admire and look for in the pest poetry: revelation, intelligence and language.