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
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton

The Invisible Bridge

author’s note:

Realism.


THE INVISIBLE BRIDGE

A wise one once told me
I’d eventually find a magical world
by walking down this path.

So I set off with great hope, vowing never to give up.

But after many years
filled with many thrilling trials
today, I encountered an obstacle
seemingly insurmountable:

I found myself at the edge of a steep cliff
with a deep dark chasm below.

I could see the path continued
on the far side of the gap—
the trail spiraled up a mountainside.
But how could I possibly cross?
I’d been told
not to deviate, but to stay on this track
and meet its challenges.
Had I been tricked?

Then a low voice unknown to me
echoed up from the depths of the canyon:

“The higher the cost, the greater the gift,”
  the voice murmured.
"Try and you will find
  a foot bridge before you—
  its invisible ropes
  and invisible boards
  will support your weight.
  To reach your magical place
  you must cross this magical bridge.”

Though I demanded more information
my words fell into
a silent void.

The epitaphs of those who test reality
often tell us:
“He died a foolish death.”
But after walking this path for so long
I preferred to die like a fool rather than go back, feeling defeated.

So I stuck out my foot
and searched around with my toes
until I felt something solid—
something like a board—
then I extended my hand
until I touched an unseen rope.

I’m not sure how much time has passed
since I took that first step.
I think now I must be at least halfway across.
But maybe not.
Unfortunately, curdles of fog came in
and hid everything—including the mountain.
Cloud has crept all the way up to my armpits—
maybe it’ll swallow me whole.
How long must this test go on!
I can’t stop my sensible knees from shaking—
they say to me:

Any moment you could slip.
Any moment you could trip.
Any moment you could fall and be lost forever.

But though I can’t make peace with my knees
I can still make peace in my head.
I’ve now decided
to love my decision—
I will, even if I fall—
all the way down
I will praise myself
for being willing to risk everything
on a magical trek of discovery.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton

The Invisible Butterfly

author’s note:

Butterflies may seem to be on a frolic, but the truth is: they’re working their butts off the whole time.


THE INVISIBLE BUTTERFLY

This morning, when I saw the child
running in the sun—
her arms outstretched
her feet in too much of a rush—
I wrote:

Though she seems to be following
an invisible butterfly
the truth is:
she’s driven by a butterfly within.

I imagined that girl moving into adulthood
years from now—
still racing erratically through the tall grass
as if ruled by a mindless whimsy.

Those who watch her then
will wonder what she’s after
but her answers will only be evasions
because she’ll be as confounded as they are.
All she’ll know is:
her life seems to be captive
to a mysterious force
that destroys practical plans.

She’ll flitter and flutter here and there—

perhaps resting for a brief while
in a cool field smelling of honeydew melon.
Or perhaps she’ll pause for a season
on the shore of a brown lake
smelling of oil.

Though she will find satisfaction
in some of those places
in time, her peace will become
stagnation.
And then that drive will begin to stir deep within.
And the message will be: “move on”.

Sometimes she’ll try to ignore the instruction
but eventually she will learn:
she must obey an inborn aspiration
stronger than her conscious will.

Thinking about that child
and the woman she’d become
I again felt those wings rustling within.

So I whispered “bless you”
and moved on
led by my own inner butterfly.

After years of following
I can hear it now
as it silently says:
so much to be done
in so many places
before you can rest.

But I don’t bother to ask
“What’s it all for?”
because by now I know
the invisible butterfly
will not answer.

How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton

Why I Listen for the Angel

author’s note:

When a man hears angels singing
he hears angels singing.
                — Mary Oliver


WHY I LISTEN FOR THE ANGEL

Once as a child
I thought I heard an angel
singing wordlessly in a gentle upper octave.
A soft silvery sound.

And so, years later
during a turbulent time
I sat down in silence
hoping to detect
at least a trace of that song
and find the same solace.

But no—
I didn’t hear any angel.
However
as I recalled
that moment of pure peace
the love I’d once found within that sound
filled my heart again.

And then I sensed
what that child had sensed
long ago:
I was not alone.  I was known
by loving eyes in a world unseen.

But then I began to wonder:

if the angel felt such empathy
why didn’t it intercede
when it saw me stumbling—
when it saw me about to fall?

Then I realized
each time I land hard
I wake a bit more
and so, my eyes slowly open.

No, I don’t know
if I’m really watched over.  However
I can say for certain:

whenever I slip
I’m able to lift myself back up
by listening
for something I probably won’t hear:
the soft silvery song
of an angel.

mythsteps · why I listen for the angel

Listening to Silence: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2025, Michael R. Patton

Enduring the Best

author's note:

I don’t have to do an ultra-marathon.

My endurance is tested every day.


ENDURING THE BEST

After you, I realized:

we must endure
not only the worst
among us, but also
the best.

Though they use different ways
both overwhelm us--
both challenge us
to rise above
our petty selves.

But while one dares us to fight
to find our light
the other tries to enlighten.

However
their brilliant light may stun

and after our eyes clear
we feel responsible for what we see:

I often try to ignore what I know
but feel guilty when I again sense
your old owl eyes watching me
from a place unseen--
near, yet faraway.

I'm pleased you check on me occasionally
but sometimes I’d appreciate
a few words of encouragement

especially when doubt
agitates my thought
almost to blindness.

You could reassure me with a whisper--
you could

tell me again
why I must not slack
in this work--
tell me again
how the little I do
actually helps us all a lot.

Tell me I must
keep on lifting
these heavy feet--
tell me I can find
the strength hidden within

but only if I keep lifting.

Please, tell me
I will eventually
be able to maintain firm hold
on the peace
that always slips
from my grip.

Tell me
all you once told me--
tell me again.

I wait
but as with previous requests
I’m answered by Complete Silence--
I don’t even feel your owl eyes watching.

I tell myself I shouldn’t
feel rejected--
after all
why should you remind me
when I haven't forgotten?

Besides that
a repeat would merely be
temporary comfort--
not a cure:

no one but me can give me courage.

As my moment of weakness passes
I feel ashamed once again
but also think:

maybe in some hoped-for future
I can use this moment
as a story lesson--
the type of story you once used
to help teach me.

Yes, later--
when I become
the sort of person
others will gladly endure.

Listening to Silence: poetry ebook
you tube channel

© 2022, Michael R. Patton