There is an ache that resonates
In the breast that has known life—
The will to be where you are not,
The echo of pulse partly forgot...

Still, there is a danger identified
In dreaming long and vivid
Then going out on eager feet
To meet the content presented

As though the realization,
The taste that dashes hope,
Might yet replace that ideal form
With texture less than found before

And leave you not with triumph
But disappointment hollow and sore.
That danger I suppose is real,
The risk of hope bestowed,

But other outcomes too may follow
When feet are placed on stone
To chase after an idea held,
To move from pallid pace

To some more desperate footfall
That comes before the storm
That washes away from dreams
The colors unfaithfully worn

And leaves behind only what was true,
The honest shape beneath
Defined by more than your own will,
By others’ matching pressure

That lets you know your place is real
By matching even resistance
That moves you both ever ahead
Even as it redefines you.

And, if the dream you chose to hold
In carefully sheltering palms
Was placed upon some worthy sight,
Then overcome the danger

And find that what is left behind
When clouds have fled and faded,
Sweeping away the dream itself
And leaving you again untethered,

While once again immaterial,
Has only taken its name and traded,
No longer far ahead but undiscoverable within:
It belongs to you and those you knew

In matching, even weight
Becoming now a memory that you may lift and take
As you seek to find your next direction,
A stone for experience sake.