Creation
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“I reckon it’s the same as sleep, that to wait for it, with deliberate intent, makes it never arrive. How can patience be the thing for a dream, for a reality in the making of art, when it recreates itself into frustration? Believing ourselves to be Creators, will always make the waiting kind, when we
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Beauty’s empire, or beautiful empire,Has arrested its attention upon the Earth.Many treks are walked to see it,And a one, a woman is there to embrace it.I have offered it,As I have extended it.I was not the one who voided it,As much as it displeased her. I have a fit torment,To walk in her shadows,Created by
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I so love you, among all the fairest angels, Death clings upon your tresses, And love upon your lips. Beautiful eyes of vivid gleam, And arms that trail the longest paths, Upwards to Heaven, and never to Hell.
Modern Romanticism 