[A couple of years ago, I was reading this book called 'Reading Lolita in Tehran'. I really liked the book, but that's not where I am going with this. A particular idea in that book intrigued me then and has kept a hold of me since.
The author/protagonist has a friend she calls the Magician. He is never given a name. He is never put into the physical context of the relationships in her life. He is not her father, brother, or husband. He isn't part of her social circle, they don't 'socialize'. He is just an entity, all by himself. They have long conversations, she seeks his advice and he seems to understand her better than anyone. But there really is no way of knowing whether this 'person' exists at all outside her mind. <smile>
A spoonful of sugar. A cupful of rice. A bucketful of tears; A oceanful of happiness. And perhaps a personful of magic.]
The author/protagonist has a friend she calls the Magician. He is never given a name. He is never put into the physical context of the relationships in her life. He is not her father, brother, or husband. He isn't part of her social circle, they don't 'socialize'. He is just an entity, all by himself. They have long conversations, she seeks his advice and he seems to understand her better than anyone. But there really is no way of knowing whether this 'person' exists at all outside her mind. <smile>
A spoonful of sugar. A cupful of rice. A bucketful of tears; A oceanful of happiness. And perhaps a personful of magic.]
The Magician spins his wand and knows exactly what to say;
Claps his hands, twirls his top hat and brings a smile to my face.
He is All Humor; and the wit of the world distilled into an entity,
Swishing his cape and wielding his sarcasm with hilarity and careful ease.
Everyone should have a Magician, a million tricks up his sleeve,
Never-ending ribbon jokes and ten thousand stories to weave
Into knots and animal shapes like loops around your head
As your eyes droop, delighted and drowsy, in that moment before bed.
A Magic Man, who listens patiently to anything you want to put to words
Who walks the rope – understanding the dark side and still seeing the hurt.
Knowing exactly why, he’ll watch as you hurl yourself towards that fiery ring.
He’ll wait to catch the burnt pieces of you, accepting and unflinching.
He’ll sprinkle stardust into the air, amidst a magic whisper and exaggerated winking
And suddenly, you’ll find yourself whole again –
talking, grinning, eyes happily crinkling.
This Magician o’yours, he’ll never listen for applause or a take a single bow;
So you should make sure you say thank you – a thousand times, thank you –
in any way that you know how.
in any way that you know how.
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