Hidden Behind The Moonless Vale Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I view the tapestry
Of iridescence.
I search for you
In one of the stars
And cross out
All the empty ones.

When this vale of tears
Is emptied by vexation,
It will usurp a place
Within the stars,
Inside your galaxies,
Your nebulous strand of splendor
That resiliently slithers
Like a vestal snake.

The skylines -
Once frequented by aeroplanes
As they scintillate
Their nighttime arrogance
Of machine-like glares,
Are now empty.

Only the reticence satiates
The heavens in an
Ambiguously lethal aesthetic
And juxtaposition:
Sometimes superfluous,
Often times barren.
The arid hollows of the
Heavens that yearn to be
Enraptured have long
Tarnished in an emollient disbelief
And destitution.
The stars hold no derision,
And the aeons are infatuated
To the scent of burning embers.

I am drunken as I have been
Quaffing redemption.
I search,
I solicit for celestial impressions
And sojourn upon desolate streets.
I look for signs of you
In neon flares,
Soirees of infinite panache,
And I find nothing.

Until a shooting star passed by
And carried your vestiges.
Your long, jet black poised curls
Your charring gossamer lips,
Your complexion of whites,
And your contour of a dagger
Gorged with undaunted erudition
And mysticism.

You were there,
Scarcely found
Serendipitously quavering
Behind the thick pools
Of moonless nights
And starless fixations.
You were there,

Inexhaustibly darting,
Stifling the heavens.