Modern Romanticism

Falling in,
shedding skin,
conversing in words
meant for children
in their playgrounds.
I've been straying
from the path,
filled with obstacles
I've yet to conquer.

I've been meaning
to see what has been
a guide, forward to
a space, unlike those
tragic rocks
where reflections
are present, inside
frozen puddles.

I've been holding
onto a stained letter,
crafted with the delicacy
of unanswered prayers.
No one calls back
from across this lake,
as I've been keeping
this form, locked within
a shell with its echoes.

No one has returned
from where I've sent
messages to a stream,
born from an eye
that cannot see beyond.

I've revisited, while I
signal for a light to follow
a trail of cold stones.

All around me, the bones
have become a shapeless shape
of an absence, where I
have been merged.