Abstract Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

From whence does the feeling stir,
Engulf in the deluge of tranquil blue waters
As deep as trenches, trenches that implode
In the gist and mirth of one's loving expense.

The impalpable moon looks so bright tonight,
Aglow, in the impenetrable atmosphere
Like tongues swinging like pendulums
Resounding in the background are heartbeats

And beside my scrawny body, and enfeebled stare
Is the entity of which all men have hoped;
Not a woman of pure beauty,
Not currency of lavish degrees

But the invisible and creeping fear
That maims the vein from the gushing of blood
And stops the mind from thinking much of days
Is it love, child? Tell me, what a darling statement it is

And in the nights that I coil
Like a loaded gun reluctant to strife
The shadows sleeping in the brisk verdure,
I think of all the love that a man demands in prayers

It appeared to me, in the vestal fortnight
Away from eyelids cascading with sleep,
The enigmatic form of the most splendid of all abstractness,
Love it is, that I speak of, with these driveling lips.

Shall I speak of her name?
Perhaps not, I shall utter what joy she brings
And what dainty feet she has, and how flourished I was
Until the day her road met mine, to converge.