The Texture of Magic — a poem

Written April 2023, Raiatea, French Polynesia

Some days, the world feels like a series of small, quiet miracles—moments so simple they could go unnoticed, yet somehow they hold the weight of something bigger. This is a reflection on those fleeting instances of beauty, kindness, and connection—the kind of magic that exists for those who choose to see it.

Today I caught myself
smiling at a crab,

I saw two small birds
in the colour orange
flying in sync,

I noticed
different textures
beneath my bare feet:

dry grass,
warm asphalt,
tiny pine cones,
sharp rocks,

I walked through a
slum neighborhood,

smiling at people in
their cardboard homes,

I saw a young mother
kissing her daughter
on the cheek,

we waved at each other,

I sat down on my butt
in a grassy spot,

a bee visited
a yellow flower
next to me,

I was mesmerized
by sun glitter
on the water’s surface,

an airplane flew
right over my head,

a stranger and I
wished each other
a good day,

I’m not sure
what I’m trying
to say with this,

besides that,

those who don’t
believe in magic,
won’t ever witness it.