Modern Romanticism

Swimming up
to breathe within 
contents of a cloud,
to swallow whole
the thudding raindrops.

I’m revising a page,
inspired from a noise,
a message scrawled
in the ivory.

I was once an observer
with a blank stare,
with white eyes
holding no life.

I’m revisiting a stream
I had abandoned
to lose itself
to an ocean.

I’m holding out hands
to take in the story
I had ended too early.

Darkness followed
for some time,
dining with me,
punishing me
for what I can’t hide
on the inside.

I’m mimicking sounds
that have done their part
to call to me,
to remember me,
to select me
to just be.