Wait, while the world enters sleep.
We will fall, we will count
drops of iron written deep
in the flesh of signature’s devotion,
beside earthly murmuring motion.
Walk this way,
find yourself laying
within the tangled thread.
We have wanted pain to close,
asked for another dose,
as infants repeating first words
waiting for the world to crawl
to a second closest to night.
We lack memory among these halls.
While my hands caress your unguarded flesh,
could you recite ruins, inside your death?
Dance among ash, as I continue to bury you.
Vast sigh, thousands more
with moonlight entering our eyes.
Night of sadness upon an ocean’s floor.
Were the dreams reality or lies
in the drift, In the countless grains we sift?
Modern Romanticism 