I can see so clearly
as I would have it.
The Torah of love would be fulfilled.
The only debts, love-debts, paid in full
with a superfluity of abundance.
I can't afford to dream anymore.
Or perhaps I simply can't afford these dreams.
They are too expensive;
their currency is much more than tears.
Pain on waking; pain in waking.
Ragged wounds from trying to hold disparate realities together.
I cannot make the realities I conjure come to pass.
Each effort costs something more;
more than I can pay.
This is expensive magic.
There is power in imagining.
But the power is not mine,
I don't have access to it.
Yet I see it so clearly.
I continue to dream...