Modern Romanticism

Where were these sticks

Crossed over shallow mud?

Like my heart, nude in the wind of your sighs,

It came highest, to point out among the grain.

I lost all,

With truest signs, to accompany me

In the soil, in the leaves.

I feel the weights,

Among the mirrors,

Hollow in how deep

Goes me, in the space beneath my feet,

As does the reflection, of me.

I see a beast,

I drink blood from the feast

Of entrails and veins,

Among other nude hearts.

Where did love go?

Did it ever truly snow

In a winter, without a north?

I thought I saw myself staring towards a star,

Towards the tip of a planet,

When I was merely staring at the falling rain,

The falling tears, of welling pain.

Let me go,

For I do not want to see your world, among mine.

Your peace, is a blessing

That can always hold

With all the clothing you modest yourself with,

With all the light you can care for yourself with.