Modern Romanticism

Casting a crown
onto the Almighty
who wears it gladly.
He swipes a tear
from a precious eye,
as we give our prayers
to an old existence
of something unable
to retreat into stone.

It is something
that continues its trail,
serving its longevity
even with tattered sails.

In being someone
who resides in this,
all fears get concealed
as hearts are unsealed.

We last in what we
have forever taken
from its position
within a grave,
to be positioned
at a road's end -
the point we save.

One more word,
one last whisper
that sends the thunder
across our aching chests.
The rain comes across
our burning faces,
for we love when knowing
what's forever has traces,
even among ruins.

Spellbound, lovestruck
on time's infinite sprawl
through an ocean
both deep and shallow.

Writing words we meant,
making mistakes where we,
through countless tears,
we say will not slow our years.