Come in, to breathe,
nearest to shadows.
Realize how
delicate, you are, taking in
what has been absorbed,
from a shrouded history.
Having moved, into
this desolate room,
to rewrite your name
into a embracing, silver frame,
you were never mentioning more
than everything you abhorred.
I have always noticed
how uncertain you were –
in closing hands, praying to stars,
lifting up oceans, from your eyes,
residing among hourglasses
that held limited grains.
Surrender, after you have
remembered, letting rivers
cross you into a pair
of blank canvas arms,
ones you can picture
are yours, to marry.
Wash your glimpses
apart, from weighted sensation,
over into fateful resignation.
We each have a part to play,
before our skies turn gray.
Modern Romanticism 