Modern Romanticism

I want the world to worship the stars,

Beneath the bloody scars.

I want the world to eclipse its own sun,

Until new grief can become undone.

I want an eternity to speak of peace

Until life shows no need

To hurry itself, over cliffs

When it once stood atop mountains.

The flame of descending

Cannot rise, without the moon's pallor,

For grief is as weighty as the ocean.

All to stare upon

Is who we are,

Where we live,

Where we die.

Can pain serve itself

Without some splinter to show a child's woe?

Without the bruise to mimic the builder

With his voluminous expression,

We are nothing that grows.

Simple art,

Simple wisdom,

Need not be complex

For the story we hold, is the story we share

Never for the flames of grief to burn

All the trust we do dare

To give out.