Dreams and Feathers

I know that last night I said that I will continue having dreams
And while that's probably true, this morning I'm going through
The consequences of the particular dream I told you of ...
Of you and I being in love as we were in the beginning
Only with our eyes and hearts more open, more aware ...
This morning I can't even glance at that dream
Without the longing welling up too painfully, too sharply,
And I forget to breathe ... can bearly see ...

I don't know how to get there, but I can't stay here
With my breath coming in gasping gulps
And hopeless tears soaking the pillow,
So I'll put that dream in a special place
And someday I hope you and I can look at it ...
Perhaps fix it so I can look at it without pain ...
Perhaps find a dream that fits us better ...
There. That's better. I can breathe again ... can see.

Focus. Take the next step. Can I see where I'm heading?
No. I can't. I'd panic about that if I were alone, I think.
Did you get that list made? Will it work like a map, do you think?
When the items are crossed off, will I be where I need to be
For true love to spring vibrantly, engagingly alive in my life?
Is this another dream that carries with it too much pain
And needs to be placed next to the one of us?
Will I have to give up dreaming? I don't know if I can.

The only hope I have left, then, is that my next step will lead me
In a direction that I can look back on twenty years from now
Without regret. I want to be done doing things I will regret.
I've done those sorts of things all too well, all too often.
"Hope is a thing with feathers" wrote Emily Dickenson,
But, if so, it is the thing that sings at the head of love's parade.
I don't know how to get there, and I can't stay here.
I hope we end up very near one another, and I take the next step.