I was a child reading books,

often fantasy of elves and unicorns;

magic wands, spells and potions;

clerics who wielded powerful spells to heal.

That is what I desired–a world where magic existed.

I dreamt of a world where I could

heal people with the wave of a wand.

The touch of my hand would heal a broken heart

as easily as it brushes tears away.

I could envision myself

as a powerful magical healer.

I devoured books and fed my mind

with dreams of great accomplishments,

causing unicorns to dance with me and

worlds to be created within my mind,

waiting for me to release them into reality.

Instead, I went to school day in and day out

and watched television and daydreamed.

The spellbooks were changed to texts and

my wand became a pencil for solving algebraic equations.

Eventually,  I forgot my daydreams and grew up,

yet sometimes I felt within the very

core of my bones, that I was destined for greatness.

At those times, I remembered the desire to place my

hands on another to allow a magical power

to flow into them and cure their wounds,

physical and emotional and spiritual.

I read books, metaphysical and spiritual,

and learned that I can truly heal another at

the cell level using only the energy I

focus and charge with the intention

of my loving, healing mind and heart.

Perfecting this skill requires

meditation and focus and devotion.

My life left little time for this discipline.

Instead I changed diapers and did laundry

and washed the dishes.  Even though

I felt destined for greatness, the

mundane tasks of life kept me busy,

and left me only with renewed daydreams

that I still hang on to today.

I am linking this poem to week #25 of One Shot Wednesday.  Be sure to visit for some of the greatest poets on the web.