Cantos: In Here I Wait Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

There is a place I frequent
When you are absent
Drunk in a furlough,
And see this not
As a mutilating caprice.

In here, the stones
Quietly slumber and the grass
Sways to the direction
Of the wind's indefatigable waft
As it trudges the vale
And its arbitrary roads.

I go here
From loving you
To not knowing you in the autumn
Or winter that suffices the vacuity
Of my hollow heart.
I am lost here,
In a beguiling dream of how
The wind veils the contour of your structures
The heavens pull the opaque
Shades of the gossamer clouds,
A signal fire for rain
The beacon of this solitude
As I sit with the riot of gravel
Hopelessly, with a lurid entreaty upon
My lips for the gods to bring you here -
A wonderful juxtaposition.

But then
Will I ever be plucked out of
My marred ground
This moroseness that affords no solace
Until you are here;
I will remain here unshaken
Even when the petrichor invades
The florid topography.
Waiting, everlong
Recounting the origin
Of the delicate flame -
A transmuted lingering finery
Luxuriously waning, sophisticated grandeur;
In here, I will wait
Until your return.