Read this to yourself. Read it silently.
Don’t move your lips. Don’t make a sound.
Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything.
What a wonderfully weird thing, huh?
NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD!
SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND!
DROWN EVERYTHING OUT.
Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper.
Now, read this next line in your best crotchety old man voice:
“Hello there sonny, does this town have a post office?”
Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that?
Certainly not yours.
How do you do that? How!?
Must be magic.
This beauty is a poem by the lovely Shel Silverstein. My childhood was filled with stories and poems from Where the Sidewalk Ends and The Light in the Attic. I am not sure which of his books this one is in, if any, but I do know for sure that it is his. Since it has no title, it’s a bit harder to track down.
But it’s so beautiful, isn’t it? So simple. So true. I’ve always believed in magic, even though my rational brain tries to take over and tell me that I never got a Hogwarts letter because wizards aren’t real and I will never be able to close my eyes and wish something into existence. Well, rational mind, how do you feel about magic now?