Ten Thousand Apollo Clones

Ten Thousand Apollo Clones
© Surazeus
2016 01 02

I see myself in faces of strange people
everywhere I walk in maze of glass doors,
multiple selves reflected from their eyes,
so I fly red silk kite from tall church steeple,
leap laughing madly on cold misty moors,
and project their faces on empty skies.

I hold my phone before my smiling face
to snap clear picture of my secret self
so I can meet this mysterious soul
who replicates itself far from my space
and lives in my book on their distant shelf,
thus I compose for myself this new role.

I am Apollo, bard of ancient song,
I proclaim on empty pyramid stage,
then strum harp to enchant your hearts with passion,
while ten thousand Apollos play along,
and mimic my unique role to upstage
my grand performance, now the latest fashion.

Wandering city streets alone at midnight,
I sing spells from depths of my boundless soul
and swim in harmonious echoes of truth,
but now my voice incarnates from sunlight
in countless singers who fragment my whole
when my spirit replicates nameless youth.

We gather on mountain of dripping rain
then follow Orpheus in Cave of Self
where we all imitate his lyric spell,
each one thinking we are unique in vain
though we are all clones of one singing elf
as we express ourselves with heart-felt yell.

I see myself reflected in your being
for we are million children of one mind,
each one unique duplicate of first soul,
so we hold hands to form one swirling ring
of singers who describe what truth we find
then combine our songs on synergic scroll.

We all disappear to dust when we die
and our songs fade mute in cold silent wind,
leaving our frail dreams in skeletal words
that remain after we vanish in blank sky
and arch over mountains where rainbows bend
to tweet new mindless songs as carefree birds.

We gather on cool river shore to sing
countless tales of experience we dream,
then sit together in frail secure boat,
weaving for each other one crippled wing,
to glide past flowered meadows on deep stream
till lost on sea of stars we wordless float.

Since we are ten thousand Apollo clones,
writing songs we sing in harmonious choir,
our faces blank mirrors that reflect light,
we build temple of song from broken stones
then climb endless stairs that lead ever higher
till one reigns alone on immortal height.

I contain multitudes for we are one,
countless separate souls woven in vast being,
individuals divided from first whole,
billions of flowers reborn from one sun,
so let us merge lonely voices and sing
to name our common universal soul.