Poem – “Weariness, by your Fire” – Romanticism – 1/14/2021

I hold the oars
In hands, to meet the trail
Back to the valley
Where your arms are crossed
In the earth, beneath my feet.

For I sail a trace
Upon this death-space,
Where vows are won,
Though deeds were done.

One final lingering moment
To the penance, to the rapture
Of moments stolen
From your feeble youth
Tongue-tied to be brazen

As the ocean is frozen,
Crumbling in your empty hands.

Hold the holy hour
That I might send a segment of solace
To the moon of you,
As you fold your arms

About the heart of you,
As you sing without parted lips.

I still hear
Those echoing sobs,
On the voyage through the valley.
I still am near
To the fires, where faces are desperate,
To hold some mode of sympathy
For the future’s upcoming
Secret symphony.

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