Moor Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Immovable are the
Pillars of my soul -
I am the monolith
At the cynosure of
Your tempestuously lambasting
Ocean of fire
And hatred.

The wind impetuously
Blusters a fan of lethal
Knives - a myriad panging.
I endure the cleaving
Like I am clad with
My iron persuasion.

They can never
Shake me:
Time lurks famished
Over my despondent hills.
Rue feigns a purpose
Across the oceanic passes.
If the distraught harbingers
Nothing but an invitation
To oblivion - then I offer
No entreaty nor claim
Towards this frail allurement.

I have long been stricken
With the malady of acquiescence
But only to you, diamond-shard
Muse. You are the only
Salutation that I kneel upon
In nights where the flames
Are fanned by the zeal
Of the night's melancholia.

I am as steadfast as
An obelisk impaled to
The trembling stations.
As the rain pierces to
Break and erode -
I stand there, unshaken -
I yield to no one.
Even the scintillating stars
Shiver alone in their
Soliloquized gyration.

And this, now or never
I pray to you -
You've won me over
As the rain dances askew.
And as the transient things
Pass like how the glaciers
Liquefy into slithering black waters
And how the fevers of
The signal flares flicker
And then whittle away into
Diminished embers,

I enter the aperture
Of your room - straight
To your soul to drive
A romance like a stern
Dagger of perpetuation,
Never to be drawn
Away as we move
Through fire
And ice.