On the journey
Back to delicate torn
Shreds of a deserted field
Where you were raised
As a single flower
With petals flown, empty
To the stagnant touch
Of the winds.
I will soar you
Beyond the last mile
The earth has to stretch for,
In the sum of all mathematical
Numerical.
Concealed as you are
Upon the openness of stars,
Cyclical
With funerals to your stare.
Gravitate, as you
Find scenery in the moon,
Caressed in the arms
Of a one
Who cannot bury the tears,
Though can share your smile
When the marriage
Holds you as the pendant
To the naked rosary.
Modern Romanticism 