A computer

How indifferent I am to my possession of sorcery.
The Arcanum of wonder that sits just inside my quarters.
The red and beige walls, and all the other bland and unremarkable items you'd find within a bedroom.
It's almost like I mock its deep mysticality, by surrounding it with those commonplace. As if I gave it a damp cellar, when it deserves a temple.
It is an instrument capable of opening portals between space, time, and everything in between in a matter of seconds. A device so complexly and intricately designed a mere toddler can operate it, yet our possession of it is so expected as it is for a house to have a door, or a car to have windows.
Yes, this portal of arcane knowledge isn't alone in the world. These rifts of mystical energies are what we build our society upon. Their energies shape the rise and fall of our ambitions, and enable us the ability to even attempt these ambitions. It is an object that can destroy and create, fix and change, and materialize arcane constructs that can fill almost any void in a person’s life.
It can do all this, and it sits lightly dusted, upon a student’s desk, where no one seems to realize its grand majesty in the slightest.