The Man in My Head

Though I have made some progress
in screening what I'm fed,
there's still a man who lives in dreams
deep inside my head.

I fear there is a part of me
who still believes he'll come
to bear me off on his white horse,
a man who is " the one."

He's rolled up in a Persian rug,
he hides in castle towers,
he swings from vines, slays dragons fierce,
writes poetry, brings flowers.

And isn't that a fully loaded
flatbed truck he tows,
complete with rose-filled garden
and white picket-fenced abode?

Just when I thought I'd rooted out
those "ever after " stories,
up jumps the devil in a tale
of rescued maiden glories.

Or when I'm sitting, still and calm,
focused on I-Am,
my small self screams,
Yeah, 'be here now?!' Get real and find a man!

I try to purify my thoughts
but find, against my will,
it is collective consciousness
I'm making love to still.

Old paradigms are slow to die,
and tough to shake, it's true.
"Get swept away" may still show up
on lists of things to do.

Only constant practice keeps
my ego disconnected.
I pray, I read, l meditate,
until real Love's perfected,

until I see that I am Love,
and need not look outside;
until I learn I make the Love
that opens my heart wide.

I affirm my own true Love
Is here and now in me,
in family, friends, and in the world
I make by how I see.

Today I celebrate the Love
I can't get from another,
and find that when I come from there,
I truly love my brother.

Next time I see him charging in
to save himself or me,
I'll kill Prince Charming on the road,
and set both of us free!

Instead, I see myself, not him,
astride a noble steed,
a queen upon my own high horse
with everything I need.

And if, perhaps, together
toward the sunset we may ride,
I know our happy ending is
the Love we claim inside.

© 2005 Hughes Henshaw Publications. All Rights Reserved. |