Fathers
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I was always wrongTo silence myself where I belong.As you are far behindIn each teardrop that fades,As all rain is never savedFrom its fall, its decline.You did not want to – Want to die,Living upon the crying smile.You were sincere in each word,While winter kept you thirstingTo know if I was listening. I do listen,Smiling
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I holdWhat seems to beTime’s cruel carelessness.A hand that masks itselfUnder coats,Though wasn’t the cold to trembleHis fingers,But fear. AgeWants him to moveTo a placeWhere a future can proveEverlasting.A broken man,A hollow manWho stains the air with his stare,Sunken in sickness. LoveMoves him to a placeWhere slowness breathes for him,Fading him,Keeping him in the armsOf
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TirednessSpeaks more upon the sunken lips,Than the grave to welcome himUnder the iron that has stilledLike the halting train.For I feel no pulseTo take him onPast the feathers in his eyes,Past the weather on his cheeks.For all peace,With every morsel of his ageHas lasted himUntil breathing momentsCome undone. LakesWith canoes to ripple us pastCertain moments
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“For the case of a child who does not weep for the loss of a parent, nor an infant that does not weep for the loss of an older sibling, it is due to the inability to differ dependency from independency. This defines innocence. For what we can define of loss, it is the heavy
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Blinded, as I amBy the streams of your brightest lightOf a Heaven I knowYour screams cannot be.It is a pain I forgetBefore the face of a gracing love.Though, a painI will not deplete myself of,In recollection of arms I knew as a childWrapped around me forThe protection I had adored. I will not obey darkness,I
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“Freedom is in excess, when we have forgotten our duty, as adults, to witness and supervise over lesser people so they may rise beyond where they will inevitably be stagnated.” – Modern Romanticism Children. Childish adults. These sorts are not meant to have opinions, viewpoints, perspectives… or whatever other synonym there is available. It may
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The face of denial will always be the face of Death. How do we prove the existence of God? By believing in the non-existence of God, and that is how. Love, in the form of the highest emotion, the most eternal emotion, extinguishes fear, extinguishes the fear of Death. Because of love, humans are heroic.
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Father, will you allow me one tragedy?Blessed by your missing love,I have been able to offer from meTo the woman of my destinyOne vow, spoken with trembling lipsAnd a heart that skipsBeats, in the stillness of new fallen sun-rays. Life did not hold me under its nose,Nor under its thumbEnough to belong to the stone.
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Deep in my past Where horses ride Over roadways and train tracks, I fall away Into memories Full of the same shelter, In how I gave love To anyone else. His arms Brought my misfortune to fortune, And in what I learned Was that grief is but a symbol To never grow beyond To something
Modern Romanticism 