Modern Romanticism

A part of you
deserves to be led
towards a lighthouse,
as you reside here
inside an ocean’s
swerving current.

There’s nothing else
other than your anchor
gathering mass,
pulling you under
your pages of history.

A shoreline has long
hoped you would come,
even for a second.

A thin sunray
keeps on guessing
what time you’ll meet.

Tragedy’s knot
is written among
the face you wear
for another day.

Another banquet
of disposed hours
to be a part of
your collapsed flesh.