“If the world to me seems lethal at times,
I must free from this my forlorn mew,
Before all I know succumbs and drifts forlorn,
It may take ardor of one to make things precise,

Before this life I vassal with tarnishes away,  
One that arouses in my art of poetic originality,
While others will batten for such virtue in life,
Times I affirm I can soar and reach to azure,

Grasp to find some love it may so betide,
Ardor works I will never stop presuming,
Things on the outside grow as I remain alone,  
I will never give up I will incessantly quest,  

One day I may close my eyes and seek love,
One that just always tells me they love me,
Love I poignantly seek will receive poetic love,
Possessing a sheaf of hopes to share with thee,

Afore we fall down may we seek the same island?
Our hearts will burn into one as we move forward,
In ascertainment this now our own refuge,
In our art of ardor”
By Andrew Guzaldo 08/17/2018