Modern Romanticism

In all directions,
I’ve been lost,
always coming close
before knowing
I would be closing
a heart to the light.

One more open door
I will be running for,
to deplete me
to the state where I
will, at last, arrive
at natural scenery.

To the earth,
into the monochrome
of a solid tomb,
one where faces come,
footsteps go.

If there’s rebirth,
if there is a paradise
for the quelling
of gathered aches,
I’ll reach for it.

I’ll depart on one word,
a promise that all
I had ever once heard
will be as buried
as this flesh,
will be as naked
as this death.