How modern, the eclipse
Two hearts, without oars, flips
Into a sun without a halo
For our minds as sinking ships.
To all beauty of a certainty
That love would bless into harmony –
Leaving puddles in our rain.
With bleeding eyes, we find the earth
Under collapse of our body’s rebirth.
We wake to a sun
Forgotten in the other’s arms,
Waving smiles as white flags,
Surrendering for nothing won.
We bleed stories, behind,
For shallow earth’s inborn signs
That the purity can be harmed
In stolen light, cruelest alarms.
A night for a fallen curtain,
Twin fevers among nothing certain –
That our love will rebel against tides,
Against all bleeding the curtain hides.
Modern Romanticism 