The Price of Dreaming

There is a price to be paid for dreaming.

Our personal thirty pieces of silver

Thrown at the Sadducee's feet.

It is our price for dreaming and believing

That our lives would ever be

Something more than what we have

Or that we could ever be

Something more than what we are;

Something better,

Something truer,

Something more wealthy or

More sane.

This is our lot in life

Nothing that we can change.

Yet we continue to dream and

To believe that our stations in life

Somehow can improve.

We are nothing but groveling, naked apes

That have forgotten our place in this world.

We have believed the innumerable lies

That we are God's chosen people

Somehow raised above the angels

By the Creator's momentary whim.

When Jesus died on Calvary

He died laughing

At His Father's practical joke upon mankind.

There is a price to be paid for dreaming

And it is different for everyone.

The winter skier's broken back,

The runner's amputated legs,

The painter's blinded eyes. . . .

The list goes on and on for eternity.

How many times have I dreamed

Of finding happiness and love?

How many times have I knelt praying

At this altar of shattered dreams?

How many times have I looked up to the heavens

Seeking answers that do not exist?

My guiding light, I have realized

Is nothing more than a neon sygil of chaos

Leading me through the night,

Laughing at me eternally.

A shattered mind.

A lonely heart.

A forsaken, broken soul.

There is a price to be paid for dreaming.

Please have exact change.

Hamish McIndlister

Copyright © 2009