Modern Romanticism

Our reflections,
buried in shallows,
along with our thoughts
buried into the mire
of yesterday.

To filter through
the crackling sounds
of shattered voices,
of what goes on
inside its blue
blessings.

To burn inside
all we’re hoping for,
surviving on the right
to seek shelter
from the rain,
in the night.

It’s the most
we can fathom,
while we’re deprived
of our endearments,
of our imminence.

To tempt the sun
to replace the moon,
to encourage glow
to shed its droplets
upon the snow.

To hear the words
we were hoping for,
to end our strife
at a single mortal edge,
we’ll take the plunge.