PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The flows of life twist around my hands.

I draw them from every possible location.

From dead creatures, the living ones as well.

Form the very air, a puddle of water, the ground itself.

Pulling it and twisting it like twine around my hands.

Guiding it into a simple form to make what I desire.

Pushing and pulling hear and there, twisting and binding there.

Holding onto my very sanity and bodily essence.

For one slip and I will be pulled into this as well.

I would be a human husk without a mind. Drifting and waiting for its return.

This is the risk, the risk of magic. The gift that I dread and love.

Now its time, the braid of magic is at its fullest. Time to use it.

Moving over to where I need to utilize it for the best result.

I guide the powers to flow underneath a bowl.

Concentrating on that location. I focus and focus.

Pushing everything and risking it all.

It’s gone. The braid, the power, everything feels empty now.

Have I burnt the skill out of my self?

Have I lost my powers of magic?

No I can still feel it flowing through me.

My spell is done, now I can rejoice and look at my creation.















Now I can eat my noodles any time.