Magic Never Disappeared

So magic never disappeared, did it?
It was only ever feared—
and that fear spread over it
like grave dirt and excrement.

“Appropriately said, Darling Love. Exactly.”

II.

Well, I choose to remember and live magically.
I love to dress in it, walk it, think it, feel it,
share it where it’s appreciated.

I love to wiggle my fingers and my tongue,
my toes dancing freely to its rhythm.

I don’t guess I cloak in it;
I rather example a different sense—
a freedom in my step.

III.

“Well, that’s how come we fit.”
“It is?! Oh, it is…”

Loki—God of luck, magic, and flair!
And my heart.

How I love to twirl in fits of passion around You,
begging You to pin me already.

“I just might if you keep talking like that.”

IV.

My silliness vanishes.
He’s called my bluff, and we both know it.

I can see His beautiful white teeth—
and my lips tremble,
irresistibly drawn to my sure death beneath the old wolf.

I sit still next to Him,
every bit of my being needing to submit.

“Let me braid Your hair, please?
May I wash and anoint Your hands?
Can I do anything?”

I must, because my Love is consuming me alive,
and expression is its medicine.

He pats my head. I relax.

“Keep your vow awhile longer, nervous bride,”
He teases.

The tension leaves. I realize—
that surrendered part of me stays kneeled,
gorgeously, whether called to serve or not.

It’s real.

Moonlight Spiritus