Beyond the ether, within the ageless soul, where snakes stand on their heads and princesses are wed, there is a place, faraway, in an exotic land, before the middle ages and Medieval times slew the ogres and the one-eyed monsters who ran into storybooks as Cyclops and Minotaurs and generations of wizards and demons and angels gathering there, at the bonfire, at the bonafide festivals of mead and pomp and circumstance.

There is and always will be the sleight of hand, the magic in the air, the lightning crisscrossing the clouds between Chinese fireworks and sky dragons on the distant horizons, slicing the night air into fable and legend. 

Listen now, you can hear sirens in the distance, where a longing exists, where youth and old age and tweens all get along in a growing mystery, a festival, a scintillating, phosphorescent dream, circumlocutionary trains in the distance caught inside a tintinnabulation, a ringing in the ears and the air— as if something profound has hit the ground, like spirits in a parade, a last attempt to signify eternity, a cacophony yet symphony of sounds and emotions—a filled-to-the-gills understanding of misanthropes and lollygagging realities on the beaches of Rio.

            The phantasmagoria is reigning again:  Merlin and tropic of cancer and writings of Shakespeare, the Argonauts and time travelers, the wishes and will-o’-the-wisp, St. Elmo’s fire and a heart’s desire, all tied up into lightning balls and shooting stars, lost before the Red Sea parted, and the scrolls were found, even before the secrets of monks and the trapeze left the circus and all things wonderful took on an ordinary hue.

            Find that silver lining, the northern lights blinding fate, the silence along the rivers and hidden high mountain lakes where wild flowers still bloom truth and beauty and the future and present fight over the past legacies and stories that thrill: Alice with pill; Lao Tzu meeting Confucius; Henry David in Walden—and all the humanity with its stories and glory are written in the stars.

            Find the magic and it will enliven your dreams, it will lift you up again to fly with dragons and chariots and oracles and gods as you sip white monkey paw tea.

            Live the enchantment and it will find you dreaming in a boat with Tom on the Mississippi, with King Arthur in Camelot, in the fiery eyes of Alexander and Genghis Khan, where legend and worlds collide, before all the black holes eat up the scenery.