I have found
a nest of coffins,
a wilderness of different snow
with the particles, fewest to leave,
numerous to count.
I did cry
under a blue moon,
with crumpled letters, burning
inside the sun of a heart,
the fires to devotion.
Enrich me.
Walk on without me.
I have permitted
your shores to recede,
while I bend low for defeat.
I will find another path to home.
I will walk with these eyes
facing the earth,
building oceans where the life
cannot be birthed.
Modern Romanticism 
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