Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Wild Dance Of Mad Sorrow

Wild Dance Of Mad Sorrow
© Surazeus
2016 11 01

Cold wind blows down from the mountain of ice,
swirled wild by the long gray hair of Zanath
who howls at storm clouds that thunder and flash
while we hide in the cave of fear and hope.

"I created this world with my two hands,"
he laughs and strikes his fist at the vast sky,
"for I shape high mountains of jagged peaks
and I weep tears that stir deep ocean waves."

Stepping from dark cave of hot choking fear,
I stand alone under vast dizzy sky,
and approach Zanath whose long gray hair swirls
to batter my soul with wild wind of hope

His hands grip my shoulders with laughing joy
and two silver eyes enclose the whole world
when he shouts, "You are Zeus, my first-born son,
for I sparked you alive in womb of Gatha."

"The light of the sun beams down through black clouds
to penetrate the dark soil of the world,
and thus my father sprouted into life
like a fruit tree who dances in cold rain."

I beat the ground in rhythm with my feet
then clap my hands to imitate the rain
and follow his steps as he leaps and twirls,
so we howl with laughter when lightning strikes.

White flash of lightning strikes high mountain peak
and flashes bright the face of Zanath clear
each time he shouts, "I strike the world with light,"
and then we dance unseen in purple night.

I open my eyes and gaze at my son,
young boy with two eyes silver as the sky,
and whisper, "So then I knew without doubt
my wind-dancing father created life."

"Now I am old and my hair long and gray
for I have become my father Zanath
and you are my first-born son I call Zeus,
for I sparked you alive in the womb of Hera."

"One day I will become the swirling wind
as Zanath dances on the rock-strewn plain,
and you will become Zanath, father god,
and you will sire a son you will call Zeus."

Seven boys return from the forest hunt
and lay his body broken in my arms,
so I stare in the vast sky of his eyes
then clutch his frail head to my heaving chest.

Cold wind blows down from the mountain of ice,
swirled wild by my long gray hair when I dance
and howl at storm clouds that thunder and flash
while they hide in the cave of fear and hope.

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