It starts as a quiet whisper
a little voice telling me
how I’ve been wronged.

I cock my head to listen,
and the words quicken, anxious
like a bird’s heartbeat in the palm.

Soon, I am seduced
into a hurricane
of thoughts.

They rush and swirl,
twirl me around
until I’m lost in their vortex.

It feels like a great revelation,
like a true romance,
as we couple in the rushing wind.

This storm of accusations,
of wrongs to make right,
darkens my sky.

Until, depleted, with little sleep,
I crash to the ground,
a tumbleweed blown to the very end of the Earth.

The Beloved appears,
shows me how I invited this affair,
by listening to its false promise,

its focus on the dream,
an illusory perfection
never to be found in the material world.

I forgot the Real,
my one true Love,
inside.

But now that I see
the immense power of
that enticing whisper,

I’m awake to its seductive wiles,
so when it calls,
I no longer listen.

Instead, I stay nested in the Beloved’s palm,
the quiet, real place, where
no problem ever exists.

When I stay here, I become the most faithful of lovers,
as I nurture that butterfly wing
merrily fluttering in my third-eye heart.

***

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