Modern Romanticism

I am unallowed
to breathe what passed by
in its weighted current.
I take for granted
what rolls on through
shores of endless footsteps.

Once, I felt it,
a presence of symmetry.
There were those eyes
watching where I knelt,
in sands, above those
countless graves.

Once, I took in
what I have let go
to be finite into infinity.
A breathless whisper
shelters painful memories,
deciding a faint future.

I am in service
to stars, to be numbered
until a heartbeat goes silent.
Could I dig up
that voice from its silence?

Could I ever leave
without coming back,
believing that water
will drown blue into black?