Beautiful sting.
Water in the bucket
meant for the drink
spilled on the road
with the tears
soaked in the accident.
While we are living
in the wilderness.
Open, from afar, –
watching connections come apart
from colorful impact to oceanic embrace.
Some travels are forgotten,
some are fatal,
some do get lost with fear
in the eyes of those who still steer,
who still hold hope –
for the bitter end, –
for the rest at the crossroads
where sorrows are left.
For the rest, we can cradle,
or we can weep for another tomorrow
as everyone behind
follows, again.
Modern Romanticism 