Modern Romanticism

It has surfaced
from depths,
from parallels,
those I had
forced into burial.

It’s thundering
from somewhere
I had thought
once was quiet,
was dead.

It’s here
to remind me
that a soul
is still singing
for who won’t
be drifting itself
back to me.

Just a feeling
of knowing what is,
who is residing
as a tenant
within a heart
filled with equal aches,
equal memories.

It pains me
like a breeze
growing stronger
to be a hurricane,
tearing sails,
destroying walls
until echoes play
as a lullaby.

I’ll hear it,
while hearing her
final words,
when I’ll bleed
with no intention
to make it stop
after it starts.

I know
it’ll be there
to chime
against the gusts,
making music
for ears that listen,
for a heart
that forever yearns.