It's Magic

It’s magic that keeps me sane in the real world. 

What gives me hope is the sheer possibility of carving out a small porthole in mid-air and looking through it to find a world of pixies and gnomes playing in a meadow on the other side, fairies sprinkling stardust on each other, birds tearing through the sky imprinting love messages your lover has sent to you, streams and brooks playfully meandering through the grassland, snow-capped mountains and hills in the distance. 

There is something so tender about this kind of beauty, something so fragile that only a soft, gentle heart can understand it, feel it, experience it. My heart leaps with joy at the sight of dewdrop on a blade of grass, it seeks pleasure in the rustling of leaves, it takes delight in the crunching of dry twigs and branches under my feet. 

In the smells of good food that waft from the kitchen. In the stillness of a warm, summer afternoon. In the beauty of lush, green fields. In the relentless onslaught of a thunderstorm. In the calm that follows. In the kind words of a stranger. In friendship. In the unlikely bonds we form with people we have only just met. In life. In love.