Broken Statue Of God
© Surazeus
2016 10 22
When horror wears a human face and smiles
through hollow eyes of hunger and despair,
I climb from lightless abyss of broken dreams
and embrace Death with a kiss like a friend
worshipped as the broken statue of God.
We walk together hand in hand through maze
of ten thousand cities around our world,
built by hands of men to imitate heaven,
and gaze upon the faces of the dead
hidden by the broken statue of God.
I memorize the features of each face
of every dreaming soul who ever lived
and walk the path of hope they carved through time
to understand the name they burned in stars
frozen as the broken statue of God.
I see their hollow skulls, cracked in white dust,
and hear the whispers of their prayers in wind
when they kneel down before their gods of stone
and cry for salvation from dreamless death
who gave them the broken statue of God.
They elevated fathers of their tribes
as divine gods who taught them to survive
then carved their souls from mute stone of the Earth
but stumbled lost in labyrinth of death,
searching for the broken statue of God.
I hear hollow howl of horror they feel
contained in the sweet hymns of hope they sing
when they gather in dark halls of cold stone
to pray to long-dead gods of wounded hearts
symbolized by broken statue of God.
He will return someday to restore Heaven,
they whisper with assurance of strong faith,
but all walk home to eat alone and die,
while ancient grand empires crumble to dust
all except the broken statue of God.
Just you and me, together on lake shore,
when sun gleams gold through silver clouds of joy,
is all we can savor before we die,
for we are good friends with horror and death
who show us the broken statue of God.
We know that we will die in turn of time
and all these visions glowing in our minds
will dissipate to nothing but swirling dust,
so we must taste the apple of desire
given by the broken statue of God.
I see soft sunlight beam on broken stone
of statues that once showed a human face
but now I sit and hum sweet tunes alone
while Death smiles at me from your secret place
that leads to the broken statue of God.
Now once again the city that we built
on solid foundation of laughing skulls
explodes in burning fire of hungry greed
and Death consumes free children of my seed
who prayed to the broken statue of God.
I climb the highest mountain of lost hope
and gaze across the meadows of our world
where humans swarm like rats with angel wings
and weep because the statue never sings
so we smash the broken statue of God.
© Surazeus
2016 10 22
When horror wears a human face and smiles
through hollow eyes of hunger and despair,
I climb from lightless abyss of broken dreams
and embrace Death with a kiss like a friend
worshipped as the broken statue of God.
We walk together hand in hand through maze
of ten thousand cities around our world,
built by hands of men to imitate heaven,
and gaze upon the faces of the dead
hidden by the broken statue of God.
I memorize the features of each face
of every dreaming soul who ever lived
and walk the path of hope they carved through time
to understand the name they burned in stars
frozen as the broken statue of God.
I see their hollow skulls, cracked in white dust,
and hear the whispers of their prayers in wind
when they kneel down before their gods of stone
and cry for salvation from dreamless death
who gave them the broken statue of God.
They elevated fathers of their tribes
as divine gods who taught them to survive
then carved their souls from mute stone of the Earth
but stumbled lost in labyrinth of death,
searching for the broken statue of God.
I hear hollow howl of horror they feel
contained in the sweet hymns of hope they sing
when they gather in dark halls of cold stone
to pray to long-dead gods of wounded hearts
symbolized by broken statue of God.
He will return someday to restore Heaven,
they whisper with assurance of strong faith,
but all walk home to eat alone and die,
while ancient grand empires crumble to dust
all except the broken statue of God.
Just you and me, together on lake shore,
when sun gleams gold through silver clouds of joy,
is all we can savor before we die,
for we are good friends with horror and death
who show us the broken statue of God.
We know that we will die in turn of time
and all these visions glowing in our minds
will dissipate to nothing but swirling dust,
so we must taste the apple of desire
given by the broken statue of God.
I see soft sunlight beam on broken stone
of statues that once showed a human face
but now I sit and hum sweet tunes alone
while Death smiles at me from your secret place
that leads to the broken statue of God.
Now once again the city that we built
on solid foundation of laughing skulls
explodes in burning fire of hungry greed
and Death consumes free children of my seed
who prayed to the broken statue of God.
I climb the highest mountain of lost hope
and gaze across the meadows of our world
where humans swarm like rats with angel wings
and weep because the statue never sings
so we smash the broken statue of God.
Masterfully composed
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