I am nothing special.
I have no more magic,
Nor fairy dust to sprinkle in your eyes.
Any power I had to entrance,
Every word I could use to captivate,
I have lost.

And that’s okay.
I am content where I am,
As part of the common denominator.
In the crowd watching the sky,
As the next bright star shoots across it,
And you all oooh and ahhh.

I am like the Snow Miser;
So satisfied with Love,
That all the magic has left my fingers.
It was inevitable.
And I accept it must be this way,
If I am to find my path Home.

I have wanted to be special all my life;
To star in my own sold-out play.
Now I realize the folly,
The plotting and scheming,
The well-rehearsed dialogues,
Are all such a waste of a life.

By “losing” I have gained so much.
Being left by the side of the road,
Led me to a safe quiet spot.
Now I am not seen nor heard.
And it is here I am contentedly growing;
Part of everything but nothing special.