Modern Romanticism

As what quakes
Is what breaks
The ice to the melted heart,
Having once quivered to each beat
Hollow upon the river,
Nurtured to each shiver,
Staining the mind
With age.

My blue is my deep
Memory in my eyes,
While something seems to speak
Deep in the flames,
Nested in the grains
That wash out
The dust from my sighs.

Something scars
The rivers flood
Against the Earth's mud,
Drowning each sorrow into the next crater
That lined itself through this planet's weather
Not able to tell
The meteor from the shower.

Tears are the need
To plant every seed
In the gravity-grounded-ground,
While sighs become all there is to sound
Wakefulness from each sheltered eye
Beneath the lid
For everything that has been hid
From the sun to melt the heart where it cried.

A frozen heart
Is anything but the soldier's start
To reopening his home to his joy,
In any remembrance left
Other than the loses bereft.