Your name is the first light of a new dream,
brought into being by a blind man’s chase.
But is he blind who sees what no-one can?
Each future now appears to me clearly:
the one to come; the ones that must be paid.
Each future has its cost in thousands more
that, shining, fail still to last the night.
A man must choose one dream and see it through;
let all other visions tease existence.
Beautiful they are — and could be partners —
but dancing with the one is worth their death.
For loneliness is plural and togetherness
a profit off outcasted others.
One’s hands are not enough to hold it all;
one’s head is not enough to know it all.
We give up everything to touch the one
who, laughing, makes our chosen dream come true.
This is a blank verse piece written in the standard, iambic pentameter.
Upon entering “a new dream”, there is the clarity of knowing that any future obtained implies the sacrifice of “thousands more” that could have been.
This clarity is a powerful freedom that makes choice mean something, because choice costs something.
Namely, choice costs alternatives. One dream chosen is another never seen; and this is precisely what love is.
“Loneliness is plural” because for one to be alone, others must choose it; and “togetherness a profit off outcasted others” because to be with another is to incur wealth by alienating the potentiality of more.
“One’s hands” and “one’s head” are, of course, limited in size and scope, though not in ambition. Yet ambition can only be realized by recognizing that every dream cannot possibly become real. Only one dream can be real. And, when we know what that dream is, when we’ve seen it and we know our head and our hands are enough to live it, we give up everything to make it so.
Perhaps, this is happiness. I do not know. But maybe more important is the knowledge that happiness is worth everything because it costs everything. I am not afraid of the price.