Modern Romanticism

Love falls upwards

Like convalescent, and reborn

Unto the sunrise

And receives God’s holy rays, like thunder from a chime

Blown by the winds of sighs.

I am still too much in love

With her veins,

With the silence where she danced

To no music played.

Still in love with the many smiles, once exhibited

Upon a face carved from gold.

I hold a phantom,

Not a form.

I hold tears from my fluttering eyelids,

Heavy on the ends of my fingers.

I am in love

With the joys and the radiance,

Not with the pain and sorrows

I can hear, in my ears.

What a mirror I stare into

To see the fossil she sheds forward

And finds another accompaniment in my heart,

That burns with the flame

Of many roaring calderas.