Poem Number Nineteen

 Wow, that's a lot. I think I write too much. Is obsessive-compulsive poetry writing a thing? 

"Deeper Magic."

There is a deeper magic

That flows beneath the ancient runes

And spells.

There is a deeper magic that evil has never known

And never will. 

That magic runs through every drop of Narnian blood

And some foreign as well. 

It flows through the great trunks of the trees,

And the rushing rivers that boil and quibble,

And the heart-stopping roar of a certain lion,

A certain King. 

There is a deeper magic

That can never be stopped.

It is called Love.