A drabble on the theme of magic (gaia transfer)

[Lirilei]

A DRABBLE ON THE THEME OF MAGIC!
Kin Name: Where Only Spirits Roam
Drabble:


Magic. It was one of those things that he could not seem to get enough of. It occupied his thoughts often, and led him into deep ponderances within himself. Magic, was one of those things that either you believed in, or you simply did not. He did. It was one of those things you could do. Or…well it was not as clear cut as you simply could not. He was…in a strange in between. He was neither good at magic, nor unable to accomplish it. It happened, sometimes. Never quite how he wished it to, or imagined it might. But then it also was not as bad as he expected it ought to be so that was a small sliver of something. Hope. Denial. It was hard to say. He was going about it all wrong he figured, trying to work out just what went wrong. Again.

[imgleft]http://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/image ... uncert.png[/imgleft]

And so, he merely closes his eyes, and he focuses once again on what he was trying to accomplish. Though while doing so his mind wanders yet again to magic, and other things of that ilk and he loses his train of thought. Which is exactly what he should and should not be doing. He needs to stop trying so hard, to stop over thinking it. Yet, when he realizes this is what he is doing, he needs to stop trying to correct himself. Trying to get his thoughts back on track. This only serves to pull him away from the magic, and the fantastical, and instead once more roots him within the here and now. The mundane. The ‘This is NOT going to work.’

Practice. Trial. Error. It was all a vicious cycle, to get what he wished to accomplish. The ability to do things, that many others could not. His name spoke of great things to come, and he knew deep within his soul, that he was supposed to make contact with the other side. To converse with those on the other side. Magic? Maybe so, but more than likely it was simply the fact he was emptying himself of things that prevented such connections from happening. An emptying of mind, of soul, of being. Becoming an open vessel for other voices, and other things.

Some would call this ability magic, others merely perseverance, and yet more he was sure would call it nothing but absolute foolishness, and yet he continued on. He knew that he could do this. He was not one to give up on what he wanted, and so he let his mind wander again, to things he had seen, and things he had learned. He let his mind be swept away by what magic he had seen, and what little he had done, and he simply was. This time, he let his mind go where it wished and he found himself in a myriad of swirling colorful mists. Sparks of life, and death both, and a smile crossed his face. He did not know if where he was, was magic but to him it sure felt that way. Magic, was as confusing, as it was beautiful, and he planned to become one with it.


WC: 527