Magic is…

 

Magic is when everything is synchronized

the winds and ruffles of paper,

the rustling of trees,

the sudden dance of the leaves-

the graceful wave of a hand

a smile that melts a heart

Magic is…

whimsical and serendipitous

it is love at first sight

and comets at night

it is fast as lightning

so quick and gone

its faster than thought

and you stand there in awe

 

Magic is…

the white feather the floats by

the ticking clock

the shadows that pass us by

the rosebud born in the night

that full incandescent moon

 

magic is everywhere…

It is the desert that finds the spring

the mountain that meets the ocean

the lighting bolt born of darkness

the light at the end of the tunnel

a rainbow in the rain

magic is in the mustard seed that moves mountains

if you believe,

it can move mountains

 

from a believer of magic.

 

 

yours truly,

bluebird

Singing @ Dba 256

Hi, its been a while. I don’t know what is up? -a dry spell, no ambition, no enthusiasm. I could kick myself because I know now is the time to work hard, to just do and I often find myself not doing… it’s a shame.

One thing is for certain, I could be having a shit day, which I have had a few lately, but when I sing on Wednesday nights all is well with the world. Nothing could shake me, shatter me or break me. Singing has become my drug.

The fear is exhilarating. My heart throbs uncontrollably that it feels it might just break out of my chest. No one is there. Not a soul exist but mine and the spirit that swims within me. And when I  sing, there is nothing else but me, and my song, and the emotion in me dying to break free of silence and I release, I levitate, and I am free.

I can sense the eyes, the looks, the approvals, people stop their conversations, peek their heads over, and they just listen for just a few seconds while my song fills the room. And I watch the walls compress and stop breathing and I watch the walls throb to my beating heart and all those who inhibit it. If I ever get close to any sort of magic, it is this feeling. I feel magic flowing out of my soul.

It is not mine, it has never been mine but I am glad to have finally released it, unveil it, let it free. I just wish I can do it everyday. If I can sing everyday, I would, but that is a luxury. So, for now, I am happy to have the opportunity of a regular stage which was an accident in the first place.

It was not until this year, when I finally gathered the guts to sing at an open mic. One night, I went over to my local wine bar, the Dba256 in downtown Pomona, where I knew they were hosting an open mic. I signed up and sang, “Angel Baby” and “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac and ever since then, I was invited to return every other Wednesday’s and Saturdays evenings for the 2nd Saturday Art Walk, and it has since then been my medicine, my drug, my freedom. I want more, so much more…

wish me luck!

Here is to you, to us, and to all of our artistic pleasures!

 

Cheers,

 

bluebird