To receive something in the mail is a magical thing. Here we have a box atop a post, in the wall or in our door which like a rabbit from a hat on occasion magically presents its user, for we cannot really own such a device (consider if it is moved inside how its magic evaporates), with wonderful things.
A host of items appear in the box. Of these items we are less than enamored with a few, which are but a nuisance. A select few of these mythical beasts are unicorns. Things of great beauty. Items we immediately experience joy through their arrival. At times these morsels are devoured on the spot. Others still are reserved in their vestal state for a time when they will be sipped and savoured in private.
A parcel in the mail box is the rainbow of our day. What it might contain is the pot of gold. Do we open it right then or wait? Do we shake the box? Is it marked from someone we know? Are we a reveler of surprise and wait to look at the label until provided with a hot cup of tea and soft chair? What could it be?
The magic of the mail is not contained in the envelopes and boxes of the post. It is not the contents. Not even close. The mail metaphysics cannot be owned, kept or even grasped in your hands for a fleeting moment. They transcend the physical world we mortals live in. The magic is in the idea of the mail. We are a recipients of its gifts of emotional gratification. We the unmistakable target of this parcel. The unseen process of its journey and its patient respite in our magical box.
The book is magic at its finest. The written word is a time machine and a keepsake of our souls. In the scrawl of man you will find the heart of the fragile creature. A child recently shared a poem with me written by a long deceased man. This man though sharing little actual time with her has a special place in her mind and heart. He accomplished this by writing her a poem when she was just a newborn. This one piece of paper with a bit of ink on it evokes a strong emotional response in the child as its story does in those exposed to it. It is also a thoughtfully wrought poem which expressed the strength of his emotions for her.
A book in the mail is a unicorn in a rainbow. Smoke in the wind is the parcels arrival and consumption. The label read, the box or envelope eviscerated and its contents revealed chase the magic from the room.