Modern Romanticism

A warning speaks
from your beloved moon,
telling you to ascend
into the blossoming noon.

Healing falters
with thorned stems
as your bandages,
acting as refinement
for your filter.

Light reprimands you
from wherever it surfaces,
waging a war
beyond where you hide.

You must fight
a battle against certainty.
You should not kneel
from the paralyzing kiss.

Hold out your torch
to tame the shadows.
Let your scars
be the footsteps to follow,
as the depressions
in a verdurous valley.