“The syntactical nature of reality, the real secret of magic, is that the world is made of words. And if you know the words the world is made of, you can make of it whatever you wish” — Terence McKenna


In the fantasy books of childhood

magic was all about the names

of things, people, elements.

When I stopped believing,

Alexander Supertramp still

spoke to me, calling each

by its true name,

dying in his search

due to mistaken identity.


Few are brave enough

to go into the wild

of their own construction.

We must all perish

in those uncharted

places of soul,

but some find their magic bus

left tidy by fellow travellers.


This is the goal of life;

to come to a reckoning

with what is,

live in that moment

and extend it to

find eternity in an hour;

just enough time to write

the words of the world

as we find them:


“Happiness only real when shared” — Christopher McCandless


The real magic is that

words are the spells which

we use to share our world,

momentary bridges to more than me.

The world is not really made of words,

but find the right ones and

you can share your version.

That is a magic worth knowing.

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