Close the chapter,
Read the book
Without the tragedy.
The moral was pinpoint,
As now the title awaits
For a different ending.
We all want, in this bleak world
To die a different death,
Without the flood of tears that give us nectar
To the fallen blossom of ourselves.
Let us sing without song.
Let ourselves yearn without the long
Wait, at the train station.
There were hands waved,
There were memories saved
With all raised eras
Falling into old ones.
When I saw him,
As I knelt beside him,
I could hear his breath,
Louder than mine,
His heart,
Vain to be brighter
Than the sun could shine.
When I saw him
With eyes shut, and mouth agape,
I knew the struggles would cease
Upon the last breath being released.
When I closed the curtains to the room,
Being aware of two glimpses
To two places,
One of a man in comfort,
The other of a world in luxury,
I could safely sink my eyes to the clouds,
While I lifted my heart to the soil.
I could empty one last breath,
Like with the world leaving behind
Old scents of a thousand trees
That fell to make us believe
That with the man and the world,
Pain will end, to set us free.
Modern Romanticism 