I daresay that I cannot decide
Whether it is the stardust in your eyes
Or pixie dust scattered upon on your hair
From the spells that you cast into the air—
The incantations whispered in a dream
Reflected in a looking glass pristine.
In hazy crystal balls there’s naught to find—
The mystery’s not easily defined;
Overlook constant cycles of the moon,
The stars that will dance into orbit soon,
Flashes of lightning twirling in the skies,
The ever constant pull and flow of tides.
Do not think twice about huddles of crows—
These things are not what do enchant me so.
I’m bewitched far beyond the realm of chance;
Luck possesses far too feeble a stance.
No, this is the work of things unexplained—
Beasts sprung from golden legend, gods untamed.
Magic in age-old form is what it seems:
To be charmed beyond all thinkable means.