Modern Romanticism

I abide by
your sole passage
into deliverance,
outside of repeated
stillborn exits.

You can thrive
in these arms.
You can do more
than survive
in this hold.

It’s an eternity
to commit to,
under delicate rain,
far from punishment,
far from pain.

Extend your trail,
to stand before an altar
where I have brought
our circles of gold.

Come forward from mist,
turning your ceiling
into the sky.

Yours is a face
to keep remembering
with hands held high.

Dried eyes,
from disastrous years,
has given us room
to celebrate.

Condemning fears,
instilling lessons
from times when you
catered to echoes.