I think the world is magic.
Last night at three o' clock,
Sleepless, sick and sweaty,
I heard strange voices mock
The empty lies I'd chosen
As my signposts on the frozen
Glaring desert life must be--
I looked out, and in the dark, a dozen
Stars grinned back at me.
Dawn came swift and silent,
And I dragged each weary limb
In my mind-fog, past the waters
Where strange scaly monsters swim;
I climbed the skies, and thought
But of the time, or the dull lot
My own dullness froze round me;
But the voices drifted, laughing,
From no mouths that I could see.
Into wild machines I crowded
With a million wilder men,
Dull of face, and dull of story,
Till I looked at them again--
Till a million human stories,
Human failures, human glories
Breathed around me palpably--
Till the heaped-up clouds below us
Could not more startling be.
Listen, reader, for a moment,
Till you hear the fishes swim
And the birds dance through the heavens
Where man carves a path for him--
Till man's glinting stars below you
Wheel with God's above, and throw you
From your daydreams that but seem--
Till a world more strange and startling
Than any man can dream.
Whirled in a winged monster
Through vast tracts of time and space,
Sensing the wonder round me
In each wondrous human face;
Stars above me, stars below me,
Grinning darkness parts to show me
And the voices whisper "come"--
Oh, the world is surely magic,
For I see the lights of home.