Modern Romanticism

Drifting smoke
from two burned out,
unattended candles
marked our halt,
told us to
stop resisting.

We found reason
to keep digging
to find where excuses
were buried.

We were blinded
to the wound
we kept deepening
on our road
without lights,
with no guidance.

We burned our flame
to keep believing
that there was something
to be fighting for.

We didn’t know
that the flame
had been changing
our smiles into tears.

We didn’t see
that we were drowning
in our shaking arms,
on the same shoulders
we had left our
deposited burdens.

We didn’t feel
what was dragging us
through the suds,
the forceful rapids,
until we let go
without looking back.