Impossible Dream - A Poem of Simplicity

 

Impossible Dream

A Poem of Simplicity 

I dreamed a dream
One that could never become true.

And once I saw it — in the light of day —
I knew something was missing,
not just in my life,
But somewhere deep inside of me.

I reached for it anyway,
A desperate hope,
knowing it would slip through,
for the dream is already out of reach.

Still I reached.
Still I tried.

Knowing it was beyond me,
But the hope was there,
Silly as that might seem to some.

I would be forever reaching —
This much I knew.

Yet the trying, the striving,
Might bring something new.

Not the dream itself,
But something close.

Not the same, but the same,
In ways I can’t explain.

You’d have to be me to understand.

For the dream is mine alone.
Unreachable, yes.
But mine just the same.

Always reaching.
Always dreaming.
Always hoping.
Never gaining.

And maybe that’s okay too.

If you were me,
You’d probably try too —
For my impossible dream.

Copyright September 2025 M. W. Van Dyke
All Rights Reserved

____________________________________

Author’s Note

Impossible Dream – A Poem of Simplicity

I don’t usually explain my poetry. But this time, I’ll offer a few thoughts — not to define the meaning, but to suggest the shape.

This poem is written in first-person, not to tell my story, but to invite yours. Each reader brings their own reach, their own dream, and their own distance. The voice is deliberately ageless — no sage wisdom, no youthful longing. What remains are the innate things: hope, belief, and determination.

All dreams are impossible dreams. That’s what makes them dreams. When we reach for them, when we make them real, they change. They are no longer dreams, and no longer impossible. They are the same, but not the same. And only we know how far we reached.

This poem isn’t about triumph. It’s about the motion of trying — how even unreachable dreams leave a trace. Whether you're young and just beginning to reach, or older and still reaching, the dream remains yours. And maybe that’s enough.

— M. W. Van Dyke

____________________________________

Footprints Behind Me - A Poem of the Truths of Me

 

Footprints Behind Me

A Truth of Me

I see,
I learn,
I read,
And I ponder, endlessly.

There is nothing set in stone,
Not to me.
I hold dear the eraser, and the chisel.

I have learned many truths,
That turned out to be... temporary.
Understandings of the moment.
None have proven to be... universal.

The tide changes the beach, ever,
Imperceptibly.
But change it, it does,
Often beyond my understanding.

What I see in front of me,
That is in front of me,
And not the entirety.
Most of what is, exists beyond me.
I do not see the changes I make,
The footprints of my passing,
Because they are behind me.
I am a tide. I rarely remember that.
The butterfly effect is never seen by the butterfly,
Or the one that passed on over it.

I have changed lives,
As others have changed mine.
Few of us aware of the doing,
But often, blindly, we blame,
Innocently or not.
We blame forward,
Because we do not look behind us,
At our own footprints in the sand.

I have learned that love is not eternal,
But often fondness remains instead.
I have learned that what I have felt,
And learned, and loved, and held dear,
And I was taught to believe,
Often became untrue.

Often. How often I use that word.
How often my life has revolved around it,
Even unbeknownst to me.
Often, it seems, uses me more than I use it.

I realize of myself that I am no longer who I used to be,
But know that others, society, will never forgive me,
For who I used to be. Revision, not often in the ability.
There are records that never can be changed, willfully.
Forever blamed for my... chemistry.

I see. I've seen.
I learn. I've learned.
I read. I've read.
And I've pondered, endlessly.

I have learned many truths,
Often they turned out to be... temporary.

There is nothing set in stone,
Not to me, or for me,
Except my own history,
Which I do not myself own.
Apparently.

And still—
I have yet to discover one that is... universal.
Or eternal.

But all I can do is go on as me,
And try to be more aware,
Of my footprints behind me.

Copyright September 2025 M. W. Van Dyke
All Rights Reserved

Footnote

Butterfly Effect (revised):

Influence is not always gentle.

The flap of wings may change the world.

So might the sole that crushed them.

Neither the butterfly nor the passerby ever knows.

When It’s Time to Empty the Nest - Step Up or Step Out

 I read a post here that stuck with me: 

A woman is caring for her elderly parents while also housing her two grown sons, ages 28 and 31. Both are unemployed. Neither contributes to rent or food. She’s relying on food pantries and still coming up short.

She finally told her sons they’d need to start paying or leave. Her mother overheard and called her a bad mother, saying she’d leave with them.

She’s not married. She’s the only one holding the house together. And she’s asking if she’s wrong for expecting grown men to contribute.

__________________________________________

I had something to say about that. I only share my reply here by request, and for others who might need to see it.

___________________________________________

Let’s start with the truth — your sons didn’t become this way overnight. This is their normal. They were allowed, not directed. They were accommodated, not challenged. And now, at 28 and 31, they have no jobs, no drive, no urgency — because the house has never required it.

If nothing changes, they’ll still be there at 40. And your mother? She’s used to them being there too. That’s her normal. She’s not helping you raise men — she’s helping you keep them dependent.

This is enabling — full stop.

But let’s also be real — kicking them out cold won’t magically grow them up. They don’t have the mindset or the life skills — not yet. And in this modern world, where survival takes hustle and grit, they’re not equipped. That’s not all your fault — but it is your reality.

It’s called entitlement. Not the loud kind — the quiet kind that grows when expectations are never set and consequences are always delayed. It was allowed to take root. It’s a mindset shaped by comfort without accountability, proximity without responsibility. Spoiled into it — not by intent, but by omission. That’s the truth.

So here’s the first shift:  

Stop calling it “help.”  

Covering their own food and living expenses isn’t helping you. It’s basic adulthood. “Help” is what happens after they meet their own responsibilities. And they’re not watching their grandparents — they’re simply present. That’s not caregiving. That’s proximity. Stop pretending they’re earning their keep. They’re not. That lie is costing you.

And let’s drop the fantasy:  

You’re not renting out rooms.  

You’re caring for elderly parents. Dementia is in the mix. No one’s moving in. That’s not a viable plan — it’s a placeholder for the hope that things will change without confrontation.

So here’s what confrontation looks like:

“No more. I’m sorry we didn’t do right by you when you were younger — didn’t drive you, didn’t direct you. I’m doing it now, before it’s too late.  

You have 30 days to find a job or find somewhere else to live and eat. If you don’t, I will file eviction proceedings.  

You have 45 days from today to start paying your share of rent, utilities, and food. If you need two jobs, get two jobs. Clean floors at McDonald’s if you have to.  

Part-time work won’t cut it. It’s time to step up — or step out.”

This isn’t cruelty — it’s clarity.  

This isn’t abandonment — it’s accountability.  

This isn’t a threat — it’s a correction.

And for every caregiver reading this — silence doesn’t protect you. It just prolongs the cost. Boundaries aren’t betrayal. They’re the only way to survive with your sanity intact.

I feel for you. I know this is hard — and it will be hard. You don’t want to be hard-nosed, but this is about survival. You’re out digging for potatoes and roots in frozen ground while two able-bodied men — boys — sit inside, warm and waiting for you to provide. This caregiving is going to get harder, not easier. And our lives are going to get harder with age and the economy. It’s time to start caring for yourself first — because it’s clear there’s no one there now caring for you.