At the start, it seemed so simple,
All that which – unexplained, unknown,
Mysterious, strange and a riddle –
Was by the name of magic known.
The answer to questions galore,
Like – why are leaves shaped so?
Because they are pieces left o’er
From making clothes for fairy folk.
Then, it was easy to believe,
Guarding their secret gifts and art,
Those little people, so hard to perceive,
Could yet be seen, by chance or hazard.
Fairy, gnome, elf and dwarf
Made magic using spell and charm,
Mage, sorcerer, witch and wizard,
Ruled and dictated magical norm.
A change – then Muggle was I,
Magic became a defined science,
To remain unlearnt through toil of mine,
A knowledge – to be a longing hence.
Then, magic needed no word or wand,
Special powers were a given,
If a god was your dad,
And to non-demigods, magic forbidden.
And then, again, it seemed to change,
Till I knew not what to believe,
A plant in human camouflage,
Was a fairy – if Y changed to E.
It was all just myth, it seemed,
Magic was naught but science advanced,
And that unknown power demeaned,
Called fiction, coincidence and chance.
Wishful thinking, though it may seem,
I’ve never truly stopped believing,
That a talking beaver, or flying team,
May yet appear, to keep the faith thriving.