A vessel, a gleaming spiderweb
Darkened by the colors of your skies.
You grew to know each vine you fed
While fierce in stare, torn and bled.
I loved, while all did surround
With the moon phases, trickles from cries –
Pale and hollow to the bleak decay.
To wield the stone, to skip the heart
Growing dim after each day.
Senseless to the symptoms of your eyes,
As each grain is fed until life dies.
Nowhere to run atop these suds.
In lust, to each their own within mud,
In love, while remembrance makes the stars –
Saluting each angel, crushed from afar.
Still to caress the raven’s scalp,
To kiss the ending where no one helped.
Here to bid morning its non-arrival
While forests turn green, lives become dust
While winter, the pirate, sheds seeds of lust.
Kind gravity from a bleeding moon –
Walk in the light, resounding one –
All for love was shed for this ocean,
Final in a march, disguised for the motion.
Modern Romanticism 