On Romanticism and the 21st Century

What is this world? Wild yet fatigued.

Cement scrapes the drowsy, pewter sky

that mourns the loss of pure sapphire hues.

Vacant faces pass each other by

without a glance of love or of loathing.

Hurried feet don’t think before they step

upon the barren ground who violently struggles

to stay firm, struggles to support them.

They. Those. Anyone. No one. We

human creatures once hunted treasures

of knowledge; once found truth buried

in daffodils. Our species once knew

that iron did not create equality but

corruption, that Bastille Day did not

conclude an eternal struggle, and that wealth

isn’t made out of gold. Humans once

saw chocolate dirt and singing weeds.

Humans once called upon God,

who’s intangible beauty reigns tangibly

throughout the natural world, to inspire truth.

What now do our grimy hands grip

in spite of reality? Gray is the new brown.

Gray is the new blue, orange, green.

Pages of priceless words have turned to screens

of propaganda. Conversations of philosophy

have turned to texts of flaming gossip.

Children have filled their brains with lies of war,

sex, entitlement. Old values are lost.

Father Time bites his lip and smirks

as we ignorantly try to break free

of his choking grip. Oh wait. We can’t.

Liberty bells do not ring freedom.

They ring the sweet sound of opportunity.

Opportunity to dream of aqua skies,

to dwell on innovative thought, to drift into waves

of love and passion, to dive into fields of color.

We once stood atop mountains and thought,

listened, observed, reflected, respected beauty.

Our minds once bloomed with creativity

and sprouted brilliance. What is the mind?

Wild and fatigued. Begging for inspiration

in a world where solidarity is long gone.

The sand between our toes has been replaced

with poisonous thorns of apathy. The warm breeze

that brushed our hair has turned to icy wind.

We search for beauty screaming from the trees.

We search for truth floating through the air.

But the leaves crumbled and the air turned to smoke.

What is this world? Wildly fatigued.