Wanna see a magic trick? Check my sleeves, turn out my pockets, pat me down, no wired, not cards, no hidden things, just a phone. And a signal. And here we sit, in the center of it, the greatest trick humanity's ever seen and the oldest one that's ever been, the same old trick remastered by everyone since time began, yet ever fresh and never before seen. My little spin? Ephemerality. For here I sit in the center of a web, no spider seen nor threads weaved, yet ensared are we in this weird, wild magic here I name: family. Not so little, some might still say broken, but Strong. Born of fire, the bright little flame I carry down in my soul, the spark turning brown to gold, reaching out through time and space and ether to grab hold and make fast these burning, glowing, gilded bonds. England, Seattle, Scotland, Colorado, Pennsylvania, California, North Carolina, Texas, and points between and beyond, my little family wanders and grows. My people, my home, never to be assembled, yet always with me, this patchwork quilt of manic artisans, stuttering poets, and gibbering philosophers makes a man, or something like one. For here I am, a collection and reflection of their love and care and joy and knowledge, burning and remaking it all to give right back, a wondrous, glorious love and reciprocation of joy. And here we sit, in the center of it, my pockets empty, my sleeves rolled up, no wires to be seen, and yet I've conjured it. You can see it now, that golden web, spooling out from me to them, but it's not just them, is it? It's you, reading this, gossamer thin but titanium strong, for to be observed is to be changed, but doesn't that also mean that to observe is to be changed? You change the world and the world changes you, simply by becoming, by perceiving, and I may never know, yet here you are, changing me anyway. Just as I change you. You didn't think you were in this alone, did you? No, no, poet and poem and reader, all together, making space together, here we sit, and I see you, too. Not clearly, not truly, but then, you don't see me either, hm? Just words, an echo of meaning and blazing purpose cooled to words and hope. But carry me with you a while, take this burning fire and change something with it. A forge makes steel, and steel makes all kinds of things, but maybe you just need a cook fire.
Take me with you, when you go. I can't wait to see what we make, where the pieces of you and the pieces of me make something more resembling a We.