The Magical

If you want to get rid of the shadows,
You have to eliminate light. A shade
Is nothing, other than a lighter patch,

A weaker patch, among the stronger lights.
It’s not the grim darkness of the shadows
That terrifies the sighted among you,

It’s their weakness, the weakness of their light
Relative to whatever is flooded,
To whatever is the source of the flood.

Yes, the shadows can appear menacing.
Yes, your diurnal instinct is for light,
But the fear comes from knowing the shadows

Are alive with light, are thrown by objects
That interfere with but fail to block light,
That the ultimate source of all the light

Is the crushing force of the cosmic love
Of all things for all things, which forces out
The light it will eventually swallow,

No matter how the shadows moderate
And in their weak and wavering failures
Foretell the collapse of the magical.