Friday, July 31, 2015

My Stone Heart

My Stone Heart
© Surazeus
2015 07 31

My stone heart explodes out red nuclear fire
that becomes my awesome Superman cape
so I soar above world of changing forms
when we watch drama of our civil war
in national play about power struggle
that follows formulaic script I wrote.

I fold my political manifesto
in paper airplane, and launch it to soar
over vast empires of asphalt and steel
where billions of people, robots of glass,
play their pre-programmed roles in social games,
gathering in libraries to read their poems,
then tear books of verses in shreds and toss
concepts from windows that flutter like snow
torn from wings of angels shot down by guns.

After I crawl again from well of eyes,
dripping oil from heart of our bleeding Earth,
I transform from angel to iron man
and walk this world, hacking down trees of fruit
where Adam and Eve weep in drenching rain.

My stone heart cracks open at dawn of time
and seed of light blossoms, unfolding tales
of fallen heroes into Tree of Life
that spreads limbs of computer wires in web
of dreams over metropolitan towers,
but silk hair of Rapunzel is not long
enough to rescue thirsty souls from hell
who cling to each other in blinding hope
though no messiah ever comes again.

Your messiah already came last year
but you arrested him, and shot him dead,
and left him to bleed on arrogant street,
and he will not rise again from mute death,
and he will not give you eternal life,
and you must protect yourself from wild mob
inside surrounding walls of dollar bills.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Lion Heart

Lion Heart
2015 07 30

Edwin crouches low in tall wind-blow grass
by swift cold gushing river on broad shore
where sunlight illuminates trunks of trees,
and notches sharp arrow in taut yew bow.

"While my daughter played on this river shore,
I heard her scream in horror, so I ran,
leaping fallen logs, in time to observe
large shaggy lion bite out her red heart."

After waiting three days by river shore,
Edwin closes his eyes and sniffs at wind
when he hears rustling of movement in grass,
sweat of its pelt, and rumbling in its throat.

"You are hunter who devoured my sweet child,
monstrous beast of sharp teeth and ripping claws,
but now I am hunter, though I am weak,
for I can hurl sharp death a hundred feet."

Rising tall and pulling bow string back tight,
Edwin pauses long moment of stark fear,
gazing in gold eyes of infinite truth,
then fires arrow swift as large lion leaps.

Roar of rage bellows in vast silent woods,
then terror vanishes in gasping breeze,
and Edwin stares down, paralyzed with shock,
as hot blood gushes from its sun-gold eye.

"Horrible beast of hunger and despair,
you sprang roaring from my wild beating heart,
and now your fierce spirit of hunting stealth
inhabits my body, so I am you."

Turning away from heap of flesh and bone
that lies quivering on blue river shore,
Edwin gasps at site of small lion cub
who leaps into his arms and licks his cheek.

"Your father devoured my beloved child,
so now I will raise you as my sweet pet,
and you will be my daughter, for your eyes
reflect her cute spirit of carefree joy."

Edwin strides in forest of dancing trees
while lion cub springs along by his side,
then they sit together by apple tree
dreaming in glow of warm afternoon sun.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

President Joker

President Joker
2015 07 19

Free floating on cement cloud of deep faith,
dug through core of ten thousand clanking worlds,
Scarecrow spreads angel wings of asphalt glue
and swan feathers to fly through window eyes
of computer monitors, tangled wires
of seven billion brains linked in one mind,
and stands on gold pyramid of world power
constructed on skulls of children who lost
game of hide and seek in forest of wolves,
then Mute Mechanic replaces his head
with painted mask stolen from King of Hearts
who appears on television at dawn
wearing crown of thorns and jewels while he sings
halleluyah, and we all clap along
with Joker Messiah, laughing with tears,
rides steel alligator of nuclear pride
nine times around our world of broken doors,
and chews our eyeballs like gum he balloons
large as galaxy of atoms who wake,
and then I bow and step off stage of laughs.

Monday, July 27, 2015

Business Of Life

Business Of Life
© Surazeus
2015 07 27

I grasp silver wheel, press gas pedal down,
causing four-piston engine to spin,
and steer my car on winding road of hope
that curves over hills past your dreaming homes.

Strangers without bodies, faces, or names
live in every straight-numbered house I pass,
and every door is locked against despair,
and every lawn is well-ordered and clean,
and in every living room on plush couch
sit mute angels disguised as mannequins
who watch world history on a million screens.

I drive past countless businesses and homes,
each one a stage for unrecorded tales,
television dramas no one can watch,
actors who wear their real faces as masks.

Storms crackle and rain pours on angled roofs,
and world we knew is drowned in floods of fear,
recorded in movies before we die,
and we live reborn in world we create.

I tear a thousand masks off my real face
in vain quest to discover and reveal
my true soul, while living lives of dead people,
till I resurrect myself from their graves.

We are clusters of atoms that clink rings
of carbon that spiral into gene coils
who swim river of love to lake of dreams
and wake aware on shore of singing stars.

We tell new stories of our lives through code
of our names that record our quests for truth,
and we map our journeys in river mud
where apple tree sprouts and blossoms ripe fruit.

Life is so messy and confusing, we
attempt to contain within strict bounds
of elegant account, enclosed in walls
of paradise we erect from stacked words,
mystery of hunger and love to control
extravagant passion of magic spells.

I drink hot chocolate by window of faith
and watch mist rise from lake of putrid life,
dreaming how we weave labyrinth of lust,
and remember in visions of desire
how my ancestors survived death to mate.

Now that we know well there is no God
we can proceed with the business of life,
the divine passion of becoming God.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Die In A Jail Cell

Die In A Jail Cell
© Surazeus
2015 07 22

When Nicki Minaj crawls across a tree
with Anaconda eyes and shakes her butt,
and slim Taylor Swift battles to the death
with Katy Perry in a purple wig,
who hears Sandra Bland die in a jail cell?

When Donald Trump builds a gold wall of hate
to enslave us all in dark factories,
and Jeb Bush tells us we should work more hours
so he can profit off our sweating hands,
who hears Sandra Bland die in a jail cell?

When Hillary Clinton raises the flag
of Liberty to storm the citadel,
the lion of justice will wake from sleep
and lead us on the march to paradise.
We hear Sandra Bland die in a jail cell.

Rebuild Our World

Rebuild Our World
2015 07 22

With jagged light of adamantine hope
to climb the cracked door on fragile glass rope,
assign to nowhere every secret name
that burns tattoo of lust on breast of fame.
We are the ones who will rebuild our world.

If we but cease to teach in holy strife
the great deception of the afterlife,
admitting Jesus is human and dead,
we will find paradise inside our head.
We are the ones who will rebuild our world.

Now gather on the river shore at dawn
and sing loving hymns on the festive lawn,
then share our feast of apple honey wine
and we share stories after we all dine.
We are the ones who will rebuild our world.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Golden Rule

Golden Rule

Always treat other people with respect
as you want them to treat you in return,
then do what you will for pleasure and gain
if you never cause other people harm.

Hermead XVII: 3723-6
Ideas of Aristokles Platon

Apalachi Dreaming

Apalachi Dreaming
2015 07 21

All the leaves are green, and the sky is blue.
I have been for a walk around a sparkling lake.
I am happy now, thinking about you.
Apalachi dreaming, on such a summer day.

Sat down on a rock I passed along the way.
I gazed up at the clouds, dreaming about you.
Wish you were here, but I am glad you are alive.
Apalachi dreaming, on such a summer day.

All the leaves are green, and the sky is blue.
Hold my hand while we walk around the lake.
I love everyone because I love you.
Apalachi dreaming, on such a summer day.

Note: Apalachi is my poetic name for Georgia. 

Monday, July 20, 2015

United In Our Love

United In Our Love
© Surazeus
2015 07 20

The young girl curled up on soft pampasan,
alone in a small house in a country town,
somewhere by a lake near an empty highway,
scrolls through pictures on her glowing tablet.

"Though we all live scattered across the land
in distant towns from sea to shining sea,
my family is united in our love,
gathering on Face Book to share our lives."

Smiling sad, she clicks thumbs-up to express
how much she likes their pictures that reveal
exciting adventures in parks and towns
that appear so bright on the world wide map.

"I never met these people in real life,
but their lives seem so cool and fabulous,
and someday I hope to look in their eyes
before they all soon die and disappear."

The young girl stands alone by bedroom window,
gazing at the silver moon that gleams bright
over fields of corn that rustle in wind,
and stares at her reflection in blue glass.

"I understand why Tammy, my best friend,
killed herself, jumping off the highway bridge,
but I want to live no matter how bad
things get when my heart aches with loneliness."

The young girl presses her hand on cool glass,
and watches lightning flash blood red and gold
when thunderstorm sweeps across homeless plain,
and she dreams millions drowning in wild floods.

"How many people died in stream of time,
waking from dream and walking solid land
to search for treasure hidden in their hearts,
then disappeared from fleeting flash of life."

Holding her tablet with one outstretched arm,
young girl snaps photo of her smiling face,
then uploads it for everyone to see
her face framed by streaks of rain that flash gold.

"I hope I do not grow old here alone,
and travel far from sea to shining sea
to meet all my family who have no names,
united in our love by world wide mind."

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Genesis of the Hermead

Four years ago on 16 July 2011, while sitting by the pool where my daughters were swimming, I was reading "The Western Canon" by Harold Bloom, and came on a passage where he speculated about what the next epic would be about.

I pondered how most epics are about martial heroes, people who found civilizations through war, and as I gazed back over at least 3,000 years of human history, I noticed that it is philosophers and scientists who contribute more lasting concepts that form the long-term foundation of civilization.

So I decided to write an epic about all the great philosophers and scientists of history. I went inside and wrote the opening passage of what I came to call the Hermead, after Hermes. This is the current edited version of the opening lines of the Hermead.

Scientists researching nature and man,
sing, Muse Kalliope, about arcane progress
of inventive magicians, wizards, druids,
philosophers, alchemists, and physicists,
bright curious people who study our world
and organize knowledge in holy books
to record wisdom gleaned by supple minds
as they experiment on sacred quest
to discover truth and invent better ways
we perform tasks to rule civilization
that programs actions of each crafting hand.

Since that day, I have written 865,000 words in 120,000 lines of blank verse about the lives and ideas of 26 Greek philosophers. I am perhaps 1/4 the way through the epic I plan to write. I plan to keep writing as much as I can.

So far I have published 366,000 words in 50,000 lines of blank verse about 14 philosophers in the first 3 volumes. Soon I will be publishing 19,478 lines about Demokritos, Platon, and Aristoteles in volume 4.

I am proud of what I have written so far. I hope others enjoy reading these tales on the adventurous lives of philosophers as much as I enjoy writing them.

Monday, July 13, 2015

Corona Rota

Corona Rota
© Surazeus
2015 07 13

El sol brilla en el camino oro de la riqueza
donde los cuervos y los buitres lucha por el poder.
El Chapo monta la motocicleta de la ambición
a través del túnel de la rabia a la carretera de la libertad.
El Chapo encoba en la montaña blanca de la esperanza,
y grita, "No hay jaula para este Chapo tan grande."
Aclama cuando El Chapo y El Trumpo batallan
por la corona rota del Emperador Águila.

La lluvia llora sobre la torre de oro de la codicia
donde los leones y los elefantes lucha por el poder.
El Trumpo pisa sobre las cabezas de los trabajadores
y conduce reinas de belleza con una cadena de oro.
El Trumpo roba la corona de espinas de Cristo
y construye un muro de espinas al lado del Río Grande.
Aclama cuando El Chapo y El Trumpo batallan
por la corona rota del Emperador Águila.

El Trumpo grita desde la pirámide de los ojos,
"El Chapo corrupto escapó de la jaula de la ley.
El Arbusto negociaría con El Chapo
y lo ciudadano de nuestro gran país hacer.
El Chapo vende drogas y muerte en nuestro país
pero voy a patear el culo y encerrarlo en la jaula."
Aclama cuando El Chapo y El Trumpo batallan
por la corona rota del Emperador Águila.

Cara a cara en El Paso dos reyes se agachan 
y gruñen como lobos locos que luchan por el agua.
El Trumpo gruñe, y hace girar la pistola de Wyatt Earp,
"Usted nunca va a vivir libres ni robar mi tierra."
El Chapo gruñe, y hace girar la espada de El Zorro,
"Nunca digas nunca, por el mundo da mil vueltas."
Aclama cuando El Chapo y El Trumpo batallan
por la corona rota del Emperador Águila.

Justicia sonríe divertida, y juega al ajedrez con la Muerte,
mientras que Libertad y Dolorosa ver su guerra.
El Chapo tira la corona de plástico de la cabeza,
"En esta vida el que no arriesga no gana."
El Trumpo golpea el viento caliente del desierto
y monta un burro en la ciudad de esqueletos.
Aclama cuando El Chapo y El Trumpo batallan
por la corona rota del Emperador Águila.

En Inglés
Broken Crown

Broken Crown

Broken Crown
© Surazeus
2015 07 13

The sun gleams on the gold road of wealth
where the crows and the vultures fight for power.
El Chapo races the motorcycle of ambition
through the tunnel of rage to the road of freedom.
El Chapo broods on the white mountain of hope,
and shouts, "No jail can hold this grand midget."
Cheer when El Chapo and El Trumpo battle
for the broken crown of the Eagle Emperor.

The rain weeps on the gold tower of greed
where the lions and the elephants fight for power.
El Trumpo stomps on the heads of factory workers
and leads beauty queens with a chain of gold.
El Trumpo steals the thorny crown of Christ
and builds a wall of thorns along the Rio Grande.
Cheer when El Chapo and El Trumpo battle
for the broken crown of the Eagle Emperor.

El Trumpo shouts from the pyramid of eyes,
"The corrupt midget escaped from the cage of law.
El Arbusto would negotiate with El Chapo
and make him a citizen of our great country.
El Chapo sells drugs and death in our country
but I will kick his ass and lock him in jail." 
Cheer when El Chapo and El Trumpo battle
for the broken crown of the Eagle Emperor.

Face to face in El Paso two kings crouch
and snarl like mad wolves fighting for water.
El Trumpo growls, and twirls the pistol of Wyatt Earp,
"You will never live free nor steal my land."
El Chapo growls, and twirls the sword of El Zorro,
"Never say never, for this world keeps turning."
Cheer when El Chapo and El Trumpo battle
for the broken crown of the Eagle Emperor.

Justice smiles amused, and plays chess with Death,
while Liberty and Sorrow watch their war.
El Chapo kicks the plastic crown off his head,
"In this life, he who risks nothing wins nothing."
El Trumpo punches the hot desert wind,
and rides a donkey into the city of skeletons.
Cheer when El Chapo and El Trumpo battle
for the broken crown of the Eagle Emperor.

In Spanish
Corona Rota

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Lake Of Lost Lovers

Lake Of Lost Lovers
© Surazeus
2015 07 11

When the heron perches on the pine branch,
and noon heat shimmers over the brown lake
where people stroll slowly after late lunch,
Stella stops and sits on the swinging chair,
and floats alone in languid sultry air
to dream about the features of his face.

Tomatoes gleam red on the curling vine
where two butterflies dance in rapid swirls,
and the heron flutters judgmental wings,
though now would be the perfect time of day
for the blind and crippled angel who sings
to approach and offer a glass of wine.

"He died so long ago," she smiles and sighs,
when the swift sparrow without heart or eyes
darts past through the shimmer of her desire,
"I forgot the true features of his face,
and the tone of his voice I cannot hear,
though he often sang to me about love."

Watching three ducks float on the languid lake,
then dive to snatch weeds from disgusting mud,
Stella wipes away sweat and hides her wings.
"He suffered such terrible pain at the end,
I understand why he wanted to die,
and hung himself at last from the blind door."

The blue heron flutters wings and cocks his head
as she feels her soul melt into the lake.
"I cannot follow you into blind death,
my sweet love, for I love to feel alive.
I wish I could believe we live again,
yet you are nothing but a fading smell."

Though lake ripples little adoring waves,
and breezes caress her conceding cheek,
trees stand forever and ignore her thoughts,
though they beam hot and searing from her eyes,
and all the world lurches in a quick flash,
so she walks away from passionate peace.

When the heron perches on the pine branch,
and noon heat shimmers over the brown lake
where no one now strolls among dreaming trees,
the swinging chair swings slow, too tired to weep,
and floats alone in languid sultry air
to dream about the features of blank clouds.

Thursday, July 9, 2015

Hungry Sea

Hungry Sea
2015 07 09

Cars shining gold in the cold morning sun
swirl around me in spirals of blank eyes
when I walk cement sidewalk to my job
arranging books on shelves of memories
we lost long before we were even born.

Hiding among the romance novels, safe
from the eyes of my kind tolerant boss,
I text my best friend forever to plan
which wild poetry readings and art shows
to attend after we all meet up for drinks.

I linger by the front door, watching streaks
of orange rain smear my happy memories
of childhood, playing soccer at my school,
and hope no weird man shoots me in the head
while I am walking in innocent hope.

This world could be so beautiful and free,
I told Cheryl while we were eating lunch,
if people would not try to force their wants
on people who have a right to live free,
like gulls gliding over a hungry sea.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Best Man Can Be

Best Man Can Be
© Surazeus
2015 07 08

I ignore the ringing phone of his hope
and remember the wood bat of his rage.

I walk alone on the pier after dark
and see my face in the dark restless waves.

Jesus is a character we devise
to personify the best man can be.

"I cannot be like Jesus," he declared,
"because I can be nobody but me."

How can I escape the rope of his words
that bind me to the door of sacrifice?

I will never go back to church again
for I prayed but no one answered my prayers.

My grandmother joined hands with her best friends
and they sang while dancing on the full moon.

I stand alone on the shimmering full moon
and become a dolphin leaping in waves.

Blank Book Of Dreams

Blank Book Of Dreams
© Surazeus
2015 07 08

Though ripples of light in the midnight sky
reveal the way to your heart I forgot,
I stand alone by the lake of desire
and dream of the life we will never share.

I turn away from the blank book of dreams
and break thin branch from the tree of our trust
to transcribe on sand our story of love
erased by the wind that blows from nowhere.

I walk ten thousand miles on signless roads
and search for you from sea to shining sea,
and when I turn around to weep at loss
I find you are behind me all along.

I draw your real face in my book of dreams
and tear it out to make a paper mask,
but no one wants to play your tragic role,
so I hang it on a tree by your lake.

Way In Broceliande Woods

Way In Broceliande Woods
2015 07 08

Laughing as he drinks another cold beer,
Thor swings his hammer to smash our door.
"Because lunch is a delusion of faith,
that believers in love insist is real,
you and Epicurus on the gold stage
of world fame, with nameless communes where clowns
entertain the religious and insane,
teach us to analyze what we perceive,
although atoms are composed of bright quarks.
You see if I do not kiss your lost wife."

Riding the white lamb on the field of mines,
Robin Hood blows the plastic horn of war.
"Marion left me last year for your son
when I realized I am the one foretold
by ancient prophecies to rise from death
and unite all nations in one world empire,
so turn the channel on your network pad
and watch me crucify your last messiah
on the only standing telephone pole,
and turn him into a wild ninja cyborg."

Turning away from the mirror of lies
that reflects the vanity of movie stars,
Marilyn Monroe winks at me and grins.
"I will marry you, if you crown me queen,
and parade my mind like a plastic doll
to prove my superior intellect
when I sketch on the napkin of your pride
the true Grand Unified Theory of Physics
that proves we are all but a hologram
in the computer simulation chamber
of a numberless door in halls of Heaven.
Now hand me that camera so I can steal
image of your soul, which might just transform
me into your perfect Barbie doll bride."

Awakening from vision of my house,
where spiders of light reweave all mistakes,
Mary Magdalene kisses my three eyes.
"I transform spirit of tribe god into flesh,
while sitting alone in cave near Marseilles,
and teach you how to construct boats from trees,
so sail the river of dreams to explore
this wild nameless land of mountains and lakes,
and dig bright gems from cavern of dead souls
to capture spirit of infinite truth
that guides your way in Broceliande woods
where the Lion Queen with the Sword of Truth
will crown you king of our wandering tribe.
There you will find Merlin who will teach you spells
for conjuring castles of stone from clouds,
and Taliesin will teach your hands to play
the Harp of David and sing magic spells
that summon Melusine from water well,
and she will transform your soul into god."

Snapping seven strings on the Harp of David,
Taliesin reaches his hand in my head
and twists the dial to change my channel brain.
"Follow me in misty Broceliande
and stand on the shore of the silent lake
where the woman in white with serpent eyes
will swallow your soul in her fertile womb
and transform a new body for your soul
so you live forever beyond blind death,
and you will forget your true secret name
till you are standing in green midnight rain
on the hill of lights at the end of time,
and cycle back through the ages of man
to remember how we evolve from fish."

Gazing at the audience in the stadium,
Pharamund whispers and flashes his eyes
at cute girls who swoon at his heart-throb charm.
"I stop at the door of the clean glass house
where rain pours over the tables and chairs
then walk back outside in the sunny day
where the Phoenix bird with elegant eyes
gives me a ride around the Earth nine times
so I see where my ancestors were born,
and dream their journey for ten thousand years
over mountains of ice where apple trees
bloom ripe from soil of sorrow and hope,
so I scatter its seeds on river shores
as I walk from the Dzungarian Alps,
following the daily trail of the sun,
to dance with you in Broceliande woods.
I remember every step of the way
since we woke at dawn by the lake of dreams
and heard the stars sing words that name all things."

Monday, July 6, 2015

Nameless Prophet Of Nowhere

Nameless Prophet Of Nowhere
© Surazeus
2015 07 06

Once I walk away from my childhood home,
and follow lone road of secret desires,
the road of life can never lead me back,
so I must continue on to bright dawn.

While standing on the mountain of far view,
I see that every direction I could go
is wide open to possibility,
but I can only go one way in life.

Since I cannot see the fate of each path
that I would meet whichever way I go,
I stand paralyzed, helpless to decide,
because I want love, success, wealth, and fame.

Then I realize, with laughter in wind,
no matter which way I go in this world
I am who I am, doing what I do,
so I sit and never go anywhere.

I will never reign as a glorious king,
I will never heal disease or beat death,
nor enlighten minds of men with new thoughts,
but who cares, since we all die anyway.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Method of Philosophy

Method of Philosophy
Hermead of Surazeus

"I divide method of philosophy
in three distinct aspects of noble search
for truth as dialectics, ethics, and physics.
Dialectics is method of argument
to resolve disagreement about concepts
through rational discourse from all view points
to establish truth about facts of life.
Ethics is talk about customs and habits
to develop standard system of rules
that examine, defend, and recommend
emotional actions that humans perform
which result in construction or destruction
so we know what conduct is right or wrong.
Physics is study about state of nature
through observation to attain true facts
from mathematics and geometry
about how matter moves through space and time
and patterns confine matter in structures
so we understand how Kosmos behaves
according to force of cause and effect.
Using dialectic method of discussion,
we study physical nature of things,
and decide how to behave in situations
that create status of beauty and good."

from Ideas of Aristokles Platon
Hermead Vol 4 (coming soon)

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Hard-Won Liberty

Hard-Won Liberty
© Surazeus
2015 07 04

Explosions burst across the placid sky
to symbolize aggressive victory
when people driven far from burning homes
burn homes of people in new lands we claim.

We raise our flag of war that drips their blood
and celebrate our hard-won liberty
then feast and sing to praise our noble right
to live free on this sacred land we stole.

We aim our guns to shoot their stubborn hearts
when they refuse to love our deity
who teaches noble sacrifice and love
then dare rebel against our generous rule.

When fireworks sparkle in our star-lit sky
we gather on the fourth day of July
to celebrate our fight with tyranny
and force on all our hard-won liberty.

Friday, July 3, 2015

Unheard Prayer Of Orion

Unheard Prayer Of Orion
© Surazeus
2015 07 01

My brain floats in the Horsehead Nebula,
shooting across the emptiness of space.
I look sideways in the mirror of time
and see infinity in the mask of my face.

I ride my swift horse in the river vale,
hunting the sharp-pronged stag among fake stars.
I become a robot with machine mind
when I convert wagons to motor cars.

I pray to Helius who creates our world
but he never returns my first phone call.
I rewire the blank radio of my brain
and hide as Buddha under the waterfall.

God Is Us

God Is Us
© Surazeus
2015 07 03

God is an invention of the human mind,
conflating several forces and phenomena
that we observe at work in the universe,
mindless forces of nature and political power.

Men see the sun shining and causing life,
and see the wind blowing and causing life,
and see the rain falling and causing life,
so they conclude those forces of nature
are conscious and causing life to occur.

Men see things moving and causing things
to move and thus causing other things to move,
so they conclude there is a Prime Mover
who first caused everything to move and live.

Men see every group of men and women
controlled and organized by a wiser man
who reigns over them by force of his strength
or by power of his intellectual wisdom,
and judges over disputes between people,
and manages projects to organize well
social process of production through ritual.

Men conflate these mindless forces of nature
and social positions of power to invent
concept of God as the great creative force
who creates and manages the entire universe.

Our universe is an enormous cluster
of sparkling atoms that spiral and aggregate
to form clouds of gas that form burning stars
that crush atoms together to form molecules
that interact based on number of electrons
and thus form planets that revolve around stars.

Thriving on the surfaces of rich planets
that revolve just the right distance from the sun,
organic life develops through natural processes
of chemical interactions between molecules
based on number of electrons that conform
vibrant structures of their spinning bodies.

Thus there is a natural creative force of life
that evolves from single atoms to complex forms,
but this creative force is not conscious nor alive.

Consciousness is a function of complex brains
that perceive light reflecting off all objects
and generate virtual worlds to reflect real world
in models of real things within neural networks
of atoms that beam visions of things they perceive,
and thus each creature who wakes from dream
and becomes aware of itself as alive and real
creates a model of the universe in its mind.

Vast collections of atoms in galaxies and stars
are not conscious of themselves as alive
but they interact in natural processes
of chemical interactions based on number
of electrons that form organic creatures
whose eyes and brains collect memories of action
and then glow with cognitive conscious awareness.

Humans saw the sun and wind providing life
that seem to act with consciousness we possess,
so they described natural forces as gods,
then humans saw tribes and nations of people
are always controlled by one powerful man
who claims to be greatest authority on Earth,
and so we conflate both concepts in one God.

God is an invention of the human mind
that conflates the mindless forces of nature
with the process of controlling political power
and thus man creates god in his own image
and imbues him with supernatural power
to create and manage the existence of all things.

The universe is assembled by a creative force
but that force is not conscious nor alive,
while we humans are the only ones alive
on this spinning ball of dirt, air, water, and fire,
and we are the ones conscious of ourselves,
thus we are the gods who now control nature.

God is the conscious creative force of love
who wakes up inside our dreaming minds.