Modern Romanticism

Washed up,
like a blanket upon sand.
I’ll present you with warmth,
to be colorful, in those clouds
where surrender
was your white shroud.

Holding a light
against that darkness,
removing emptiness
from awareness.

I’d love to revive
what could not survive
in those blank pages
of entangled history.

I’d love to keep you,
kissing you into greatness,
lifting you into a sight,
as wings give you flight.

This light
forms a path
for your bare feet,
moving from me,
your exhausted shadow.