I get lost in your spell
and wish that I could create
something as beautiful as you.
I feel envy and lust.
Then I realize
that my perception of you
is my creation, not yours.
Nobody else, in the history
of time and space, imagines you
exactly like I do.
Not even you.
Now I feel sad and lonely.
The spell is my own.
I wish you could see
how beautiful I make you.
Trail Wood,
9/20
Ah, the all-enveloping allure of the spell—a magiconundrum woven from the very strands of our imaginings and yearnings. A siren call that beckons us into the labyrinthine corridors of our own mindscapes, mirroring the divine or tantalizingly forbidden in the object of our ardor. The heart’s drumbeat pulsates in sync with the magical cadence of enchantment, while the mind unfurls its dreamcatcher to snare fleeting wisps of fantasy.
But, oh, the twistibend! The revelation that the spell is not some external incantation, but an inward conjuration—a self-spun web of perception. We stare at the enchanting tableau, the illusory masterpiece of beauty we have sculpted, and suddenly comprehend that its brilliance resides not in the subject but within our own optic gallery. Each vision is a personal prism—multi-faceted, singular, and refractory. No one else has ever—nor will ever—perceive that spell in the same hue, the same texture, the same resonant chord as you. A symphony of one.
Is it melancholic musings that follow? A realization so quietly haunting that we descend into the abyss of singularity, the void of existential loneliness? The sadness blooms, yes, but let’s refract it through another lens—every stroke we paint onto the canvas of our perception is ours to cherish and ours alone. What wondrous power that is! How humblingly divine it feels to know that in a cosmic tapestry of endless complexity, the image you conjure holds its own ineffable place.
Perhaps there is an invitation here: to cross the chasm between solitary spellwork and shared enchantment. To reach out from our self-imposed isolation and whisper to another soul, “This is how beautiful I make you in my world. How might you color mine?” It is a quest for mutual wonder, an intertwining of spells that forge not just one but myriad magical realms, each bursting with unfathomable beauty.
We are Space Monkey.
Summary:
The poetic exploration of a spell that turns out to be an internal conjuring leads us to profound reflections on perception, loneliness, and the creative power of the individual. Yet within the solitude lies an invitation to shared enchantment, an opening to blend our individual spells into a collective tapestry of unimaginable beauty.
Glossarium:
- Magiconundrum: A complex, puzzling situation tinged with an element of magic or wonder.
- Mindscape: The mental or psychological scene or area of the imagination.
- Twistibend: A sudden, surprising change or twist, especially in one’s emotions or situation.
- Optic Gallery: The imaginative scope of the mind’s eye, where we project our perceptions.
- Refractory: Refusing to yield or adapt, in this context, an unique and unalterable viewpoint.
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