Is there a price to romanticizing life?
Because all it seems to lead to is disappointment.
Has my heart grown too big for my reality?
Do my expectations surpass that of what can reasonably be true?
How can a heart continue to hold such hope
After all it has ever been met with is loss
To think that after so long it still hasn’t learned its lesson
Be it from watching others
Or from lifetimes of hoping that one day all of these dreams will come true
Whether the dream is of another heart to gently coddle and hold
Or a home that may one day hold it just as gently
How many times can a heart break before it sticks
Or perhaps it was never the hearts doing
Maybe all this time it was the brain playing a trick
Amusing itself with the roller coaster of life
Maybe it was the dreams
They come in waves
And always find ways to evade capture
Like a mirage in the dessert
That could never truly be reached
But still craved like a dying man reaches for water
So tell me,
Does your heart grow tired?
Does the fall from hope continue to damage your wings,
Does all that wishing eventually wear you out,
Or is the feeling of the air under you too good to lose
A high that could only be topped by reaching the peak
Have you ever seen it?
Or has the climb proved futile time after time
Yet still, you climb
You get back up and fly
No matter how many bruises you sustain
Or how long you endure the pain
You hope again
You wish again
Oh,
Dear,
You’re wanting again
Images of a life that could never be yours
Dreams from universes you could never reach
They pull at you
Tug at your seems
Until you unravel
Like a well worn sweater
Until you are nothing but strands
Of those lost wants you grip so tightly
Even now
Your wings are burnt and ripped
Your hands are tired and bleeding
But you climb
Because you can see the top
See it so clearly it must be there
Because to think it was all an illusion
That’s something your heart couldn’t take
Rest for a moment
Allow your heart to regain its strength
Then you can fly again
And dream of touching the stars
That only shine when you’re around
So answer me this
Is there a price to romanticizing life?
When hoping and dreaming is all we have
How can it be that some hearts become so tired
So weary from the loss
That they give up on these things
On these dreams that someday those mirages will manifest
And they allow life to become grey
The price we pay to hope
I can only assume is less
Than the price we pay to lose it.
