No gentle brook is this, but tidal force,
A tempest waking wild within the breast,
It sweeps the mind upon a reckless course,
And grants the weary spirit little rest.
Behold the lightning strike across the soul,
A fevered dream that burns with holy dread;
I yield control to this divine control,
By unseen winds and violent currents led.
I crave the thunder of thy gaze tonight,
To quench the furnace raging in my core;
Though danger dwells within such fierce delight,
I cast my ship away from reason’s shore.
So let the hurricane consume us whole,
Two flames united in the blackened sky;
Let passion pay the devastating toll,
For in this storm, we live before we die.
In the tradition of the great Romantics, this piece acknowledges that the sublime is often terrifying. Love, in its most potent form, is not merely a comfort but a transformative cataclysm. It suggests that to truly feel is to risk everything, surrendering to the chaotic beauty of an untamed heart.
