There are some so duty-bound to
deeply engrained belief in logic
and science and reason that
any mystery can be explained,
because their philosophy wills it so.
Physics, advanced mathematics
are their religious miracles.
To them, all of life’s illusory riddles
can be solved, either right now
or soon forthcoming.  These folks,
often serious and respect academics,
posit grounded rationalizations
of psychic phenomena, guardian angels,
déjà vu, abductions, and more.
Call it Neurasthenia, Americanitis,
Nervosism. But in the examined end,
there’s always some real explanation.
I am of the other mindset,
believing in the magic that exists.
I have seen angels walk among us
on a Metro-North train to Grand Central.
I have spoken to dead authors in dreams
and have seen their strange proclamations
come to unexpected fruition days later.
I have watched hours of crazy cable shows
exploring the weird and the wacky through
theories of wild-haired foreign professors.
They account for ancient alien visits,
Bigfoot, Nessie, the pyramids, and the
mystic ravings of futurist Nikola Tesla.
There are things that happen
that defy explanation – why else
would anyone root for the Jets or the Mets?
The world would be a far drearier place
without the inexplicable, the unexplainable,
and the optimistic hope of the miraculous.
Regardless of how the trick is accomplished,
there is joy in magic, in the possibility
of the impossible. In the larger scheme,
a life without mystery is no life at all.

Gary Glauber is a widely published poet, fiction writer, teacher, and former music journalist. He challenges reality every day. He has two collections, Small Consolations (Aldrich Press) and Worth the Candle (Five Oaks Press), and a chapbook, Memory Marries Desire (Finishing Line Press). A new chapbook of surreal poetry is coming soon.
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