Modern Romanticism

I’ve brought a ship down,
meeting my downfall
upon an ocean’s squall.
Tears will roar,
no wings will soar,
making this burden
unable to surmount,
when I cannot account.

I drift on, on wreckage,
weeping in place of keeping
wisdom close, on its leash.

Pain has become imminent,
lost has remained intimate.
I feel that wind creep close,
brushing past
where nothing lasts.

Are you seeing this?
Just a man who cannot
stand on his own,
cannot walk upon water,
cannot swim through fear
to uncover something
that might be near.

I have lost everything
that I cannot bring back.
There’s a sunset’s
residual light, gleaming over
a skeleton on a forgotten shore.
There are infinite waters,
lapping on finite sands.

Where’s a grain or two,
to prove, in all that’s eternal,
that time cannot undo
what I’ve misused?