Three Wishes: An Exploration of Magic, Time, and Wonder #Poetry

Wishes Unbound

I stand in the dust
before this bottle, rubbed raw and waiting,
and three wishes spiral up like smoke.

What do you ask for?
the genie murmurs,
an echo of old desert winds,
his voice curling around me like a forgotten song.

I’m quiet, caught up in the ache of it all—
the wanting, the endless flood of need.

My first wish rises out of me like a scream:

1. I wish for time,
not the flimsy minutes or hours
but deep pools of it,
days that stretch like plains with no horizon,
time to sift through every thought I ever buried,
to pull apart the tight knots in my chest,
time to breathe without the weight of a ticking clock,
to be boundless, unhurried, infinite,
the way trees grow, the way mountains stay,
to live slow, like glaciers inching their way through a thousand years.

And the genie nods, his eyes flicker like embers in a dying fire.

Granted.

Then comes the second wish, stumbling out—
trembling, young, as if it just learned to walk:

2. I wish for wonder,
to be struck dumb by beauty
again and again and again.
To see every sunrise with fresh eyes,
the way a child sees color for the first time,
to walk through cities as if they are forests,
wild and full of secrets.
I want to look at ordinary things—
raindrops, lampposts, a stranger’s smile—
and feel my heart open like a book,
every page blank, ready for something new.
I want a life brimming with wonder,
to never lose the thrill of discovery,
to be enchanted by the world without cynicism,
to live as if each day were the first and the last.

The genie raises a hand, tracing circles in the air,
as if to etch this wonder into my bones.

Granted.

Then I stand silent,
feeling the weight of the last wish
like a stone on my tongue.

3. I wish for… no.

I wish to let the wish be a secret,
a flame cupped in my hand,
a seed planted in dark soil, hidden,
never spoken, never shown,
a wish that exists only in my chest,
buried so deep it will sprout roots
and twist through me like ivy,
something that grows in the quiet,
unseen by any light but my own.

I wish for silence,
for mystery, for the not-knowing,
for something I can carry
alone, forever,
my own silent compass,
guiding me in ways
no one else could understand.

And the genie looks at me, bemused,
a smile—half-warm, half-worn—
and he nods.

Granted.

#GenieWishes #MagicPoetry #SelfDiscovery #CreativeWriting #PersonalGrowth #Time #Wonder #MysticalThemes