Modern Romanticism

Pace your way
Through the tracks of snow,
For I am well ahead of you
Fallen as the debris.
I have peeled my eyes
To the sunrise,
Though obscured behind the clouds
Like your face behind the shroud
Where tears make the frozen rain
Beneath a sheet of pain.

Whatever is ahead
In the motions, we tread
On iron wings.
I am on a carriage built from carrion,
Bones and sinew.
I am built on the rust of an ancient man
While you continue to weep where you stand.
Would you cry for good
On the pathway for extended miles,
Burying the sun for loathsome whiles?

Your beauty is a certificate
To a celebration of misery.
I keep the wings frozen of you,
So that your stilled pacing
Can never be chasing
The wilderness that grows from your hair,
Nor the flame that for your eyes, you did stare.

You did know
The path to go,
Yet you will continue to weep for good
Shrouded beneath the bleak hood.
Of clouds that rain only ashes,
Of streams that form only clashes
Against the nestled white vapor of few million breaths.