To choose
In the attempt to ignore,
While the waters keep flowing
Outside the gates
Towards places we abhor.
My wonderful nurse
To a child whose steps are first
Onto a ledge.
The places we both marry
Into the other.
Weeping inside the fog,
Digging the earth for a better ring
That could bind us so close,
Apart.
We circle back
To the other,
With tearstains as our watering clouds,
Believing in a God of no one else’s faith.
We hold,
Holding back.
We give,
Giving back.
Modern Romanticism 