Modern Romanticism

Drink deep these moments,
Running across our veins
In the sensation of idle death,
In the bountifulness of stable breath.

I come to you, as merciful,
For I hold each droplet on my chin
That once belonged
To each stray petal hovering
Above the planet's ocean.
We encircle
For we are circles
About the unwinding clock,
During our moment's embrace.

We are blooded,
Loved,
Flooded
With each drop to a sailing meadow
Where we race,
Where we give chase
To love that has nothing else to seize.

Give yourself,
Hand over yourself,
My love, in your washing hues.

The sun is only ever a landscape
For your growth,
To the burial of your light.