Modern Romanticism

Salivating for
utterances of humanity,
being available for
every tiny hour,
every last grain
to grow sour.

As I bleed,
there’s more here
to burn,
when I’m here
to turn the pages,
to unfurl wings
that get me across
the tempting ocean.

I’ll cry
for a thousand years,
under the weight
of a million tears,
waving flags of ivory,
when surrendering
to the sounds
I’m not remembering.

Flame comes in,
while water goes out
to drag me through
the sudden suds.

I’ve released
more than I can carry.
There’s always more
I can leave behind
for others to find.

There’s always the wind
that pushes me beyond
the unknown deep.