Modern Romanticism

Let me in
to see what came first.
Progress paces itself
according to the next thought,
though you are presenting yourself
in subtlest regression.

Back to when
life never began,
heartbeats were not
ever a signal for birth,
while formlessness
shapes this scene.

Replace your grace,
as it never was.
Fall with me,
honing our needs,
our cries to be
what becomes a seed,

in a test of anticipation
to be led, under sensation.

Fade with me,
letting our structures collapse.
Drown in me,
as I’ll float within you.

We’ll invite an apocalypse
to bring a rose forward,
forcing our hearts open
to settle light on a barren world.