Modern Romanticism

I want to love
Without facilitation.
I want to suffer
In your dedication.
My eyes have seen the waters,
Same as our land.
My hands have felt the wet pages,
Same as those documents
Of our histories.

Your eyes,
A closed center.
My eyes,
An open universe.
We spiral
In a spun form
Where dwells existence
Upon all areas of non-existence.
Experience leaves us manifested
In chaotic elements.

I dream of a hand
That holds the sun
Without letting go.

I dream of a world
That means more
That the loneliness of old.

We call concepts
To be outdated,
Once revered in esteem.

I want to close my eyes to your own,
Heal my heart with your threads
Woven on the stream of reality.
I hold faith not in the blackness of space,
Though in something to fill it.

Your words
Dot my complexion
With the freckles of what does not pass,
Not for a thousand years.

Your eyes,
Your stars,
Remind me we have one sun
To keep us warm.