Dreams

Cost nothing as a kid.
Naivete about the world allows
Childhood aspirations to bubble
Effortlessly to the surface,
And at that age
Time seems infinite,
Our very existence is teeming
With possibility.
As a kid, unless something comes
And breaks your spirit earlier than usual,
Anything is possible.
Now as an adult
Dreams are expensive.
Irresponsible even.
And at some point,
Many of us make peace
With them never bearing fruit.
Life is hard
And cynicism is stubborn
And we realize the endless, overflowing buckets
Of possibility we had as children
Have shrunk to limited teacups of chance and opportunity
We now frugally sip from.
The cost of chasing dreams as a grown up
Is high.
The trade offs are painful
And sometimes the realization
Is not quite as satisfying.
And yet we know,
Despite the unpromising trajectory
Of our dreams
We owe it to the world
And to ourselves
To dream nonetheless.

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