When I think of magic, I don't see spells shooting out of little wooden sticks. I don't see a wizened old wizard with a sea-worn staff clutched in his hands. I don't see three witches spinning over their simmering cauldron. I don't see dragons or fairies or even elves. I don't see a youth, just on the brink of manhood, suddenly thrust into the cutthroat life of a magician. I don't see a sorcerer with his spell book. I don't see colors and lights and complicated incantations. I don't see the black magic, or the white magic, or even purple magic. Have I covered all the cliches? That's just not what magic is. Sure, I have used almost all of those "magics" in my writing, but... I don't know how else to say it. It's not magic.
Magic is a humming bird in flight.
"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light. God saw that the light was good." Genesis 1: 1-4a