“Cleaving its way through waters that rise and roll,
Aghast that love may no longer return,
The auspice of which I will await with open arms,
A precipitating force of our souls once again,

Moon marked and touched by the sun magic is tacit,
So distant yet so close as once her eyes imply repudiation,
As the procuring of the inner sacrarium of her emotions,
As she sits not afar off from me with a gazing glance,

One that for too long degraded scorned and oppressed,
Will I be the one to say and to make her solitude?
Deep dark eyes of romp sadness befall upon my heart,
Her slender being bares tenderness in its silence,

Gracefulness of her movement she lives in one’s mind,
As her sadness alludes to my soul and heart,
As I close my eyes in daze as a product of beauty,
Fatigue is flowing, and the grief without a shore,

When we speak we are not afraid our words,
Everything I conceptualize spoke of how love is,
This flaming of solitude we call Love,
The unexplained animus here of all is adulated”
By Andrew Guzaldo March 27, 2021 ©   #201