Modern Romanticism

Raining on
what I’ve reined in
all I’ve reigned,
while losing control
of the surges,
disassembling towers
to welcome dirges.

This is an ocean
too blue, never new
while its oldness
accompanies its coldness,
floods itself on wounds
I’ve left untended.

This is a reflection
coming into aged light,
while losing luster
outside of a vow
taken without awareness
of what’s forsaken.

With all hope
I’m losing sight of,
there’s never anything
I cannot repeat,
like a heartbeat
that carries on
its own residue.

Without being afraid
of what I can do
to be finally
remedied in renewal,
I yearn for a day
when I can say
life was on a leash
too short to be
freed or unleashed.