Modern Romanticism

The world swings letters

On jagged rocks,

Near an ocean, where wails from whales

Are the same sounds as the crying widow.

Love possesses dragon scales,

Covering the entrance of intrusion.

Beyond the wall that shields a person

From exploring the outermost,

And the wall goes aflame

In the current of disdain.

Those letters

Swung on the piece of wood, hung from two ropes

On rocks,

Spell out hope to a forlorn world,

Brimming in seeds running from the ocean’s mouth,

As collision is the cruel decision

Against a shore that sought not for the kiss,

But for the hopelessness of barrenness.