Only Bliss Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Blankly, there athwart
Lay over my head, dreams and dying arts
My palm, ashen and pallid
There is something amiss
In every night’s kiss
I could go on searching,
Rendezvous upon the silver veneer of the moon
That veils my head to go unnoticed,
But then, veiled or unveiled,
I go about in anonymity
-
I wonder if there’s someone out there
That hears my woes,
A dissonance in the night, while the cold wind blows
Can you hear me?
I do not need you to understand,
And take my hand and tell me what is,
And what shouldn’t be
My soul is intact,
And my pulses spell vitality
My eyes are disenchanted
By the still waters of melancholy –
Before I sleep at night,
I wonder, endlessly,
That maybe, one fortuitous event
Would lead me to some stranger
Who woke up with the same ashen palm,
The same faltering faith,
The same wrecked being,
The same loathing and loving – all at once,
I pondered over her face,
And perhaps, she looks for me
Though she does not know my name,
And maybe, not serendipitously,
Just one happenstance, she’d ask me,
Where am I, am I still in hiding?
I’d reveal myself blatantly – with my pathetic brazen face
Breathe a wintry air of relief and not disgrace
And maybe,
Faith would be restored,
Wounds could now scar,
There’d be no abandonment –
There’d be nothing, only bliss