No Divine Angel

No Divine Angel
© Surazeus
2016 11 14

The half open door that will never shut
hides the face of the girl with seven eyes
though she gives me the secret coconut
that was retrieved from Hell by three blind spies.

Great empires rise and fall in flashing waves
which nourish minds of dreamers who create
intricate puzzles that translate airwaves
of wordless thoughts to calculate true fate.

Though I play chess on beach of time with Death
by chanting spells to misdirect contempt,
I polish mask I wear through shibboleth
that hides success with each new failed attempt.

High in the tower of vision, past midnight,
Michel the Dragon Slayer of Nostredame
weaves formulas that ring atomic light
to hide our dreams in spell of rhyming rhomb.

When sweet Ophelia, wearing tattered gown,
gathers flowers of evil on river shore,
I wait like Charon disguised as the clown
who forges key that will open her door.

When Dionysius wears the crown again,
and hangs the Sword of Damocles from bridge
of trudging slaves, I must unbraid the bane
that leads me to keep watch from mountain ridge.

I open door of temple where all books
ever written by the hand of dreaming fool
are tossed in the cauldron by snarling cooks
who command that I write new Golden Rule.

I flee the walls of Babylon to blaze
new secret trails through Waste Land of desire
but wander laughing in the social maze
while greedy sons of crownless kings conspire.

I follow Ophelia while she chants spells
through roadless mystery of Broceliande
and find her secret grove with bubbling wells
where she teaches me how to make new wand.

I stand bold on Pyramid of One Eye
and wave new wand that fails to transform things
though I will never cease to question why
I am no divine angel with pure wings.