Modern Romanticism

Deprive a circumstance,
depleting remorse
to your foundations.

Rebuild from the nothing
that condemns you,
as you flee from it.

Let yourself
judge those miles
for their worth,
weaving intricacies
from stale imagery.

Embrace winter
until you are painting
those colors,
those glimmers
that you smothered.

Betray what wilted you,
until you become
what grows from dust,
whose blood flows
from the shade of rust.

Defeat your doubt,
construct an empire
with hands that once
held the breaths
you choked out.

There’s nothing
more for the beauty
than a complete image
born from the womb
of transparency.