Magic is what happens when the sun rises Transmuting the land into gold Like generations of alchemists have not With all their philosophy And rare minerals And the teeth of something that promised To be a unicorn but was in fact Something wilder still Magic is what happens not When we chase the impossible Finned women and maned snakes And potions that will make him love you Or make you fly Or change you immutably into something you are not Magic is what happens when we still our minds And look out upon the land Not at what could be but what is Things so unbelievable That you can hold in your hand The shimmering of twilight off the water And the iridescence of a hummingbird’s throat The mathematical perfection of a snowflake, A nautilus shell, the feathery curl of a fern The way that every night the sun sets And every morning it rises As we hurtle through an endless universe Of stars and planets that call to each other In ways we don’t understand On a scale our minds were not designed to grasp Magic is what we make it In a world where the sun rises On endless possibility That we need only reach out and take