Modern Romanticism

The aspect of romance, divided between the heartening and the thoughtful.

Words of Wisdom – “The Result of Power” – 8/9/2019

August 9, 2019
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“The flow of humanity takes itself wherever power and dominance leads it. Why call power a wrong? It should be named an inevitability. To say it must be erased, altogether, is to accept denial as one’s own power. To keep a population in denial, makes the population powerless. To accept personal irresponsibility as a good token, makes one as well, powerless. Responsibility is the tool of the leader. Although, his hands can only extend so far, and for such power, he needs his limits. What is the result of power? It is definitely not stagnation. In terms of ‘development’, power does not simply stand still. It moves and guides a population wherever a leader points his finger. It throws soldiers into battles and sends a mother’s or wife’s tears to the soil of a grave. These are all inevitable. And what is the use of power? As power moves, it also grows. As power does not stand still, it directs and most of all, it is used against, to divide and to conquer. For once more, this is all inevitable and very human.”

Poem – “To Walk upon Death” – Romance

July 29, 2019
romanticindeed

Face our turmoil,
And rend the world apart!
See where we have felt the stinging pain,
The toil to what has been called love.

Never love and only the survival bought from danger,
I am a man of guilt who is asked to be strong.

I am a man of pain who is asked to be painless.
I am a man of shame who is asked to show himself.

The love from a woman has made a mark,
I show weakness, and it’s seen to be dark.

We both, as lovers, walk upon death
In each’s arms, in failure and desertion.

What am I but the man called misery?
I am not uncertain about the want,
Though, uncertain about the gain,
To what I want, to what will spell paradise.

Oh, my love, walk upon death,
There is no Heaven in this Hell.
There is barely a life to say is a treasure,
I’ve become numb against my sorrow.

And from death, and in life,
All has become black and white.
Strange minutes resort to unbidden strife.
As I seek to make you my wife.

Life, in all its stalking upon death’s ground,
Do we stand upon someone’s grave,
On the street, where we wave
To taxis and workers in their frenzy?

Face me, dear one, and see my pain,
See how it soaks me down,
See how the future faces the West,
And the past falls to the East,
Backwards in confusion harmonic,
In what I am destined to be.

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