Modern Romanticism

Down in the deepest love

In the deepest dark

Of a heart, that has wildness attached,

Within, and upon the deepest ache,

Of an organ that does not cease

Its unguarded rhythm.

I feel, though I do not

Wish to,

Because the sun only feels as cold as it could be

In the murky underlying scenery.

I have a ruby nestled in my chest,

Just a stone where red seems to be its nest.

A droplet of blood, against a scar so visible in the grain,

Like the parted red sea,

And I have dove into the deepest love.

I have drowned my head in it,

Like a man without a sky to lift,

Without the Heaven to see

With eyes that bleed.

Failure has its realm in death,

Running with one departed breath.

I am a soldier who has no currents to run

From his naked and worn eyes.