On Wonder

Magic is not real.
And dragons do not fly.
Giants do not roam the earth.
I say it with a sigh.
Our heroes don’t have powers,
And rarely save the day,
But our villains don’t take over
The world anyway.
Our carpets cannot levitate,
Nor can our broomsticks zoom.
Which causes me to cogitate:
What can we really do?
If aliens won’t talk to us,
And genies don’t abound,
Is there really anything
More crazy than it sounds?
Where went the preposterous?
That wild, unchecked wonder?
The stories that would foster us,
Have they been torn asunder?
Where went our world’s spark?
And why is there no flame?
And why upon inspection,
Does it all look the same?
Why is there no magic?
Why don't dragons fly?
Why can't giants roam the earth?
I just wish I knew why.
So if there are no sea monsters,
What’s left for me to draw
In empty spaces on the map
Of lands I never saw?
And how can I ever look up
And see the twinkling stars
And not feel so wistful for
Something that was once ours?
And how can I not strive
To bring back what was lost
Restore the wonder once again
Whatever the cost.
I wish that there was magic.
I wish dragons flew.
I wish giants roamed the earth,
And made my wonder true.

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