He trips
Upon the short line,
Skips heartbeats
Trapped at the borderline,
Holds a straw
For the familiar sting
That his chance to sow newness
Will never be brought,
Shall not sing.
A wilderness,
One shining eclipse,
A part of a moment to enter
The sun,
When the moon is grown,
When tears are shown.
A part of a moment,
Highlight upon the heart,
Of love that sears.
Small moment,
First sigh
Breathing out the night,
To forsake the day.
Gesture of nothing
To silence the mind
Of thoughts that unwind,
In the heat of everything.
Caught
At the borderline,
Prevented
From moving forward,
Jailed in a heart
Where the ribs are the music,
The chimes
To remind him
Of what cannot part.
Modern Romanticism 