Magic Could be Black or White

This is magic; black or white

That one has to decide

Days come and go, nights too

Dreams persists yet slippery

Seasons change like minds

Sometimes hot and then cold

Fans and polar bears sleep

Then they keep awake for months

Mountains sigh, sweat and rage

Rivers bear the brunt; later

Sun throws fire and ropes of despair

To which farmers dangle by neck

This is magic; black or white

That one has to decide

Swords always do not cut

Sheaths always keep in place

Horses could run wild but

Only they rein who have killed

Without swords but with words

Gates of hell and heaven

Are divided by a thin line of magic

One needs to learn magic

To be inside both at once

There are two keys: patience

Unlocks the locks that turn

Only once to one side

But the other key, the grievance

You say it could open the locks

But not the magical ones

That lay hidden inside sleeping eyes.