Ascension of the Romantic

I shatter the edges of ego

Blasting a pathway to the real me

Exploring the depths of my own reality.

Who am I? What have I done? Does it define me?

Does anything I say or do matter?

Is this reality a façade of imagination;

And how will it feel when it ends?

These unanswerable questions plague me.

We are told that we were moulded

In God’s image, but I paint this portrait.

I realise this is my story to tell.

It is then that I see beyond the horizon,

The sweeping scope of that sea

Where I stopped and stared long ago,

And my senses blended with the world.

I was it and it was me; we were perpetual.

The constellations of my conscience

Were free to dance with the ocean;

The waves were mine, the gulls cried

And I heard them. I felt the landscape

On my naked hand in that moment,

I wasn’t an idea of “me”, but I was me.

The avatar that mingles in the realms

Of consciousness, smiling with sad souls

Whose paths are shrouded in anxiety.

It was there I answered the questions of life.

We are at war with each other, constantly.

But the real battle is branded as liberty

And the suits sit in silent splendour

At the institutionalisation of earth.

There, in their towers, are the tyrants.

You may have this age of man,

But your end is nigh; life will defeat you.

History will be written, it’s true.

It will speak of your victories, but

The poets will preach humanity’s truth.

Our words will whisper into the heart

Of the eternal consciousness of man

And you will be damned to oblivion.

As your legacy burns, we will unite

The world will hold hands with each other,

Together.