magic

The heart is the magician.
Poet's words swirl in an endless void running to catch an eternal wind.
Our human spirit magically emerges from the magician's hat.;
the soul finding its equal in a sea of colour.
Music,
art,
sound,
life,
paint,
emerges from the void of the human heart.
Time ceases to exist.
Only the artist sees the heartbeat in footsteps that cross London streets.
Only the musician hears the melody in the human voice.
Laughter, conversation that ebbs and flows like music in morning rush-hour cafes
echoes a note contributing to a grander symphony.
Buildings conceived by artists are picasso's dream.
In London,
life has its own energy.
The artist paints an abstraction of the Thames as it collides with the sun.
Modernity of steel and glass plays hop-skotch with cobblestone streets
while Shakespeare's laughter echoes through time.
In London,
water learns how to breathe within a compostion of sound.
And love rushes between windows trying to capture a whisper.