Modern Romanticism

An empire, no longer
spoken as being eternal,
when a song has been
silenced to listening ears.
Were there other ears
other than mine?

I've searched a grave
for what I've lost.
It had reminded me
of what I didn't save.

Leaves crumble into
their residue, sharing
the same due place
as common earth.

I've wept in the morning
as birds chirp another
everlasting song for
a pair of watching eyes.
Here, I'll stick a gaze
to a mirror, while I gather
all that I have dumped
across a barren field.

There, I'll bring back
a heart that either clings
to hope, or else it brings
its rhythm to a familiar part
of this musical world,
teeming with vacancy.

To resell this heart,
to rebuild one gleaming
fortress of ivory.
To bless the next day
with kisses, from lips
dipped in oceans
where life is cleansed.