Modern Romanticism

For what I beheld
In the grasp of my stare
Was the sheer beauty
Of a thousand mornings and more.
Like life never faded from her
To create an evening's solemn colors
Of drowned shades.

My love guides a current
Out from her eyes,
While I do not hold back
My own that see the smoothed grass
Over the flaming meadows,
Where once we danced, as now memories of bliss
In the arms of something carried for miles.

My blood has become frozen,
My face has become stilled,
More dead than your own.

Love erases silence
When memories leak against the writhing world.
Love still teems even in these broken arms.

For I held my world in a cradle
Of broken timber,
Of each twig still carrying their leaves
To the shores where each tear sweeps to be adored.

Whatever feels the void
Knows what to avoid,
In more pain, demands more gentleness,
In the keenest interest to see the sunrise.