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Dreams do come true, but only when They make it through despair, Limping into everyday Transformed beyond repair.
No dream would be a dream if it Could pass for something real, Nor would we sail for paradise Would it its shoals conceal.
So it is with love: the dream Long longed for, now possessed, Must be a dream no longer, but An emperor undressed.
Stark naked it must come to us In unaccustomed shame, And we must take it in our arms And love it all the same.
And we must love love as it is That dreams might still come true, Mangled into miracles To make our lives anew.

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