Magic is for every creature, great
and terrible, or small and fleeting. Light
shines on us all. Within each of us waits
tomorrow’s magic. Tense and deep and tight
the new-born foal, the fairy-fingered hooves
run to conclusion, muzzle grey, back bent
towards dawn and dusk. Every creature who moves
weaves their own spells. Oh, follow where I went
through fairy hoof-prints. Magic seeks itself
in bat and slime, in fox, phoenix and wren,
cat stalking through the shadow. Speaks itself
to sleep. New-born, I seek wizards again
to enter journeys, numinous, mundane
or in-between, runes woven through my mane.
Entered by: 0x3e17…7e9e and preserved on chain (see transaction)