The Magic Must Be Real

author’s note:

Written after watching the 2019 documentary The Seer and The Unseen.


THE MAGIC OF IMAGINATION

One long-time resident
can actually see the legendary elves
who inhabit our island.

This woman especially enjoys
a quaint village she recently found
in a shadowy stand of oak
between two little knolls.

Yes, I believe her stories
because I can see the shine in her eyes
when she tells how she frolics with them
in a secret forest clearing.
They like to play fifes
and ring tiny tinny bells
as they skip about
in red shoes that curl at the tip of the toe.

I want to see as she sees.
Yes, I find beauty all over the forest
nonetheless
I’d still like to see an elf do its dance.

But until I’m able to defog my eyes
I’ll try to satisfy my wish
vicariously
by imagining her loving descriptions as fact.
No, I haven’t quite eliminated doubt yet, but
the response in my heart says:
if you can feel the magic, the magic must be real.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
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© 2026, Michael R. Patton

Talking to the Wee Folk In Case They Actually Exist

author’s note:

I think you can find mystery anywhere, everywhere.

But some places are just more conducive to the experience.


TALKING TO THE WEE FOLK IN CASE THEY ACTUALLY EXIST

When the hunter sprayed his friend
with buckshot
perhaps he was a little bit drunk
or perhaps you tricked him
because in his callous ignorance
he’d tromped over your clover
with his big clumsy boots.

Or because
you heard him laugh at
a folk legend loved in times past
when people still indulged
their sense of wonder.

Maybe some will say
I don’t like plain facts
but when my goosebumps rise
the plain fact is:
the one within this skin
senses mystery lurking.

But though I like to imagine
that mystery could be you
I know the mystery is probably
something I can’t possibly imagine.

No, forget what I just said!
Of course I believe you’re really here--

why else would I ask you
to forgive this fool
if he slips or trips?
Please, I pray--
I’m not obtuse, just transfixed
by the dark garden
of your forest labyrinth.

mythsteps · Talking to the Wee Folk in Case They Actually Exist

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Only a Fool Argues with Stone

author’s note:

I learned the way I often learn: the hard way.


ONLY A FOOL ARGUES WITH STONE

Long ago a clever storyteller saw
the features of a human face
on the gray stone of the bluff
overlooking the bend in the river

then invented the tale
of the wise woman spirit
who sees all who pass as her children
and warns them with an echo:
steer away from the rocky shore.

A legend we love because
both young and old
want to feel protected by Mother.

Many of those who canoe
down the river today
will slow their paddles at the bluff
and ask that stone sage for guidance.

And the ones who truly listen
may discern an answer
buried within
the distorted amplification
booming back across the water.

I’ve known people who refused to accept
what they needed to do
until they heard the woman of stone say:
you know the truth.

But you need not travel to our river
when burdened with a question.
I say:
wise stone spirits can be found
all over this planet

and if we approach with reverence
they will tell us
what we need to know--
even if they don’t echo
we can hear their thoughts
if we quiet our hearts.

I myself have sometimes received
an answer of truth
from a cliffside or a boulder
or even a rock in the sand.

And though I often want
to reject that wisdom
I don’t because I’ve learned:

only a fool
argues with stone.

Listening to Silence: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

The Wise Words of the Butterfly Soul

author’s note:

I’m trying to tell myself the truth.


THE WISE WORDS OF THE BUTTERFLY SOUL

According to legend...

when lost in battle
warriors sometimes come back
as phantom butterflies
to deliver wise messages of guidance.

So when I sensed
those wings fluttering
around my ears
I knew you’d returned to me

and I waited, hoping to hear
magical wise words
that would unlock my heart.
And then
in a sudden burst of freedom
I’d know true peace.

But you just whispered
this short flat instruction
then flew away:

before you can see the stars
you must first lower your eyes.

Dreaded action!--
but as the legend says:
the dead can see better than we do
because they have nothing left to lose.

And so I looked down to address
that mud heap of grief on my plate

while telling myself this second legend:

after the prison pauper ate and digested
his slop-mess dinner
lo and behold!--
the ceiling lifted
and his plate reflected
a fulsome night of stars.

Wise words can’t do the work for us
or give us strength
but without those wise words
I wouldn’t struggle so hard
to find the strength
to work for the peace of freedom.

33 1/3 New Fables & Myth: ebook
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

The Wise Mountain Lake

author’s note:

Is it any wonder Bigfoot doesn’t want to deal with us?


THE WISE MOUNTAIN LAKE

This watchful lake tells me:

“long ago
  the deity we call 'Heaven Mountain'
  opened its heart to catch the rain
  so that I could be the cup I am
  and comfort people
  when they surrendered
  and begged for my help on bended knee.”

Yes, the lake and I both know
impersonal geological forces create lakes

but the lake and I also know
why I’ve returned to its shore.

And so
I lower to my knees, as before
and the lake begins to heal me.

What I Learned While Alone: poetry ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton