Please ‘Play’ The Audio/Video Above And Follow Along With The Words Below.
The box in the corner, glowing bright,
Whispers to minds in the dead of night.
It shapes your thoughts, your daily tune,
A silent master inside the room.
Magicians appear on every screen,
With wonders too strange to be believed or seen.
David Blaine, with a steady stare,
Turns the ordinary to something rare.
A hand through glass, without a crack,
A stolen ring he soon brings back.
He levitates, and people weep,
For what they witness shakes the deep.
Grown men scatter, brave hearts flee,
At visions that defy what can be.
Illusions strike where logic bends,
And fear and wonder know no end.
Derren Brown, with a softer hand,
Shows how minds are castles of sand.
He gathers tokens, rings, and charms,
Objects held close with tender arms.
Each name inscribed, each secret sealed,
Each “reading” perfectly revealed.
A room of strangers, hearts laid bare,
All convinced he had been there.
Nine of ten swore he was right,
Two held back, but praised his sight.
Then the twist—one truth, one smile,
The trick had lingered all the while.
Every page the very same,
Copied words that played the game.
And yet each soul believed it true,
For all our hearts are built from glue.
We dream alike, we fear, we cry,
Our thoughts are mirrors passing by.
Push the buttons, press the key,
And bend the will of you and me.
The box still hums, its stories told,
Shaping the young, enslaving the old.
Beware the spell, the unseen chain,
For freedom lies inside the brain.
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Catch Ya Later …
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Ven Bunce …
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