Both of us
were gleaming,
while only one of us
came to recognize
which of us,
out of all of us
floated higher.
Extinguished radiance,
at the abandoned one
who fell, from hands to darkness,
went far from eyes
that still dropped the stars.
To illuminating tears
from a burning heart,
down to a barrenness
spoken of, ignored
for eons,
while it always swallowed whole
someone’s landscape,
breathing in who was left behind,
making into fertility
who was deserted into finality.
Holding the one,
the sundered one,
together, even within their
closing shell,
while laying a quivering kiss
on their perspiring temples,
visiting their pain
from all sides,
but never reimagining
the spot that once welcomed them.
They were a story told,
with pages burning
into those same temporary sparks –
those that kept life alive,
for its most remembered time.
Modern Romanticism 