A certain second from the sun
To beckon a quickened heartbeat,
Coming closer upon the run
As Autumn sheds its defeat.
Your face did display in burning notes,
As God worshipped His own tongue –
Weeping in greater days
When love encircled without delays.
Your hair dropped from shoulders to neck,
A cascade to weakened embers.
I still believe in this,
A quiet embrace in a silver second
When the moon crawls a tear
Towards the laid kiss.
Your eyes are never here
To see the sands being covered,
To wander the miles being stretched –
After revealing you from sadness
In each year wrapped in madness.
Deformed, with nothing inborn –
To encase the sting of your reveal
Beyond where hands can reach,
Among all winters when fathers teach –
The nightmare of discipline that nothing raises
A statue in surrender to many phases,
Among a moon that never remembered.
Modern Romanticism 