Modern Romanticism

You mourned, the frozen wastes,
With tranquil beliefs, that shaped worlds,
I knew, the ending, to your plight,
But saw, only my life, in twists.

There is beauty, in every love,
With statues, cast from marble,
Risen, towards the emerald,
In forests, of secret safety.

With the illusion, that dips a leaf,
Adorned with petals, and thorns,
Into the silk, of a woman’s breast,
I find the essences, of worship…

…and those, that destroy,
Shall break, the evening tide.

With glances, of blue,
Skin, of ivory,
You shall wear, a crown,
Dressed, in simplicity.

There were moments, that were holy,
The meager silence, that sought,
To poison, the fruit above us,
Rained discolored wine, instead.

The joys, that lovers, hold dear,
Are naught, but ashes and snow.
Soft, with blessings, of sadness,
Departure, for the listless.

If I wished, for the nothing,
My love, shall grow, anew.