Dear sorcerer, grant me peace. Each night I conjure images and sounds, swaddled in warm blankets. Addicted to the sweetness, dreading the bitterness that follows, I wake with an empty heart. O, good sorcerer, enchant me with the peace I seek. 

Pray tell of a spell to prevent my waking.

"When I was your age," Sorcerer said, "we had to use wands to spell-cast."

Witch shrugged, "Whatever. The mind is a wand."

"We didn't even have TV remotes."

"TV? We stream to mobiles.  Didn't you use your wand to change channels?"

Sorcerer looked chagrined. Busted.

"That was my favorite spell."

Caduceus of the gods

wave your mind wand

make lust last eternally

curling our rapture

rolled into string ball

waft it toward us

to unravel

infinitesimal fractions

morsels of passion

savoring forever

drifting embryonic

awakening our sequels

enshrined love

on burnished alter

opening our curtains

twirling baton

rod of life.

"To make clouds act" said the child, "I tell them to do a show."

"And do they?"

"Oh yes. "

"Always?"

"Always," said the child, "They always do something."

"Hmmmn", said the sorcerer, disbelief in his tone,

The child smiled. "I'm right, you know. Their best is a disappearing act."

A spell to let the poets breathe,

whose lyrics make the flowers teethe.

A hex to make the mountains sigh,

the wind to cry,

the ghosts to die.

Of myriad makings—

a child's tear, the Devil's fear, a party's cheer,

a spell that takes the world from its black sheathe.

"My favorite spell," The sorceress replied, "is the spell that opens the mind. It dissolves the wall that keeps so many stubborn men from actually listening and learning and really seeing the world around them. When you open the mind you open the heart, and that lets true magic happen. 

it is a dangerous spell

not lightly used

for one known two weeks

and hardly a day

shifting into spaces

of full blast knowledge

of seeing without

what it means

to share self

without messy poking

it is to explain easily

the self to those known

who cannot explain themselves

"You have courage," proclaimed the sorcerer. "Now use it."

"But how?" inquired the child.

The sorcerer bent down and whispered the truth.

"You have courage. It's in the flair of your personality, the bite in your bark, the air in your lungs; It's who you are. Courage. You are courage."

Utter not a word displeasing

they are poison

seeping into the heart

and claw at the soul

the mind is the wand

your words the spell

let it be kindness

that you tell

Kindness fills the heart with joy

soothes the wounds on the soul

Kindness is thy favorite spell