It seems an unremarkable thing,
this blending of lines,
of sky, mountain, and earth.
Today, we probe their mysteries,
dissect their compounds,
speculate on origins,
and calculate lifespans.
What lies beneath,
what lay behind,
is given over to
Old warrior gods, healing goddesses,
mythic creatures drawn
to vices and virgins.
Givers and takers,
fire, blood, steel, and stone.
The cryptic, capricious constellations
telling different tales for different tribes, and
the arcane angles of the sun.
All for a price, all of a piece,
said to be fanciful and fake.
Yet their stories have not died.
The legacy of legends
are still in the recesses of the human mind,
given rebirth through human lips.
Slowly, they are returning
in the candles and crystals,
in the gems and crafts,
in the runes and ink,
and adding of souls.
And as behind the unremarkable blending
of sea and sky and mountain,
the angels and demons make war,
hear the magic call to you
in all its lost, forgotten glory,
and rekindle your wonder.