Tiny Beads of Magic Dust

The fog settles in
over the mountaintop
sending droplets of mist drifting down
coating my hair
my feet
my brows
my nose
with cold bits of magic dust.

I’m enveloped in magic dust.

Tiny beads of my soul
seep out and mingle
amplify the magic of mist
the fog has sprinkled on me.

Drifting now, the fog
so high above me
achingly compassionate

parts briefly
tears itself in pieces
to show me
clear skies above
the so green mountaintop

and the magic in me
explodes in streams
mirroring, mimicking, magicking
the beams of light
rays emanating

I’m touched by faeries
I’m touched by so many

And when the fog closes again
descends one step more
its cold, hazy compassion
fills me to bursting

because now I know
I’m always covered in tiny beads
of your magic dust.



This is part of Magaly’s blog party “Witches in Fiction 2015…Death Rites and Remembrances.” Hop on over to check out all the other fantastic writing and artwork:


9 thoughts on “Tiny Beads of Magic Dust

  1. Such a wonderfully vivid image of The Circle of Life and Death… I’m enchanted by the point of view, the way in which is ambiguity allows our imagination to fly with itself (or with the fae)… These words could have been spoken by a soul that has “open her eyes and open them again”, in realized that she’s one with everything around her… Or, perhaps, by what living soul has become after death, when she finds out that even after the flesh and bone is gone, she still remains as part of everything that is.

    This is a delightful elemental dance, Esther. Pure delight and awareness, indeed. ♥


  2. Enveloped my magic dust that is a beautiful way to look at how one remains embraced by a person no longer physically there, beautifully written & magically realised xox


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