Modern Romanticism

You want to
hear it, again,
in its softest subtlety.
I ask it, another time,
with breath I release,
after inhaling vapor
in what fog hides us,
rewinds us.

I hold out my heart
in its everlasting blindness,
to continue everything
I have given tears
for its growth.

Are you aware?
Will we ever dare
to brave this journey
into solidification?

We float, as bodies,
warm to the touch,
staring at open sunlight,
watering our eyes
in all that goes by.

We lift, up towards
Heaven's beckoning,
but not if we fear
a heart's deliverance.

Count the beats,
remind our minds
of that envisioned feast
on an eternal place
meant for stars,
resisting voids.