Saturday, March 25, 2017

With Death As My Friend

With Death As My Friend
© Surazeus
2017 03 25

I explore this world with Death as my friend
who reveals sweet transient beauty of life
that glows through vast infinity of time
in brief flash of ecstatic consciousness
that sparkles in bright neurons of my brain
where God wakes and gives itself a new name.

Wind whispers secret of eternal life
in ripples that glitter on lake of dreams
where turtles float in green sheen of rebirth
and blue heron glides on wings of desire
while I dream name of every conscious soul
who lived and died in long spin of our world.

Though I stand alone among whispering trees
I feel all around me on spinning globe
seven billion spirits who wake at dawn
and run through vast labyrinth of desire
to gather as large crowds in halls of doors
and chant name of dead god they hope returns.

I follow road in circle around lake
and listen to voices of singing souls
whose faces appear in mirroring waves
before they vanish in death from this world
for mountains are formed from dust of their souls
that swirls in wind from breath of laughing stars.

Billions of people walk down city streets
to weave their hopes in tangled web of truth,
but consciousness they project at blank sky
reflects back from mirroring Mask of Self
which hides network of neurons in their brains
where face of one god smiles down from white sun.

When oldest woman in our world appears
from gleam of sunlight that blinds my clear eyes
she points down at center of spinning globe
and shows me where dead angels lie who sing
history of human struggle to survive,
encoded in formulas of lost myths.

I wander lost on signless roads of hope
for ten thousand years, following bright sun
around this spinning globe one hundred times,
but stand alone on river shore at dawn
where someone drew secret signs in mud
that reveal Star Woman by Tree of Fruit.

She gazes in my heart with burning eyes,
and all those stories of warriors and kings,
tribe elders told to praise heroic deeds,
are blown away like smoke in wind of words
that swirls refreshing breath of honest trust
from mountain cave where she preserves my soul.

Though seven billion people breath and dream
alive on this small spinning ball of dirt
I stand alone by lake in gleaming rays,
hearing nothing but my own voice in wind,
so I sing and savor joy of this hour
since I will know nothing after I die.

I write ten thousand songs on sandy beach
and sing their words in roar of dancing flames,
expressing vision of human desire
to overcome blind weakness of our hearts,
then careless waves of death rise with bright moon
and erase all my songs on sands of time.

I am no more than flashing flame of hope
that flickers for one second of desire
in boundless darkness of infinity,
then vibrant ripples of my singing voice
echo lost forever through galaxy
that spirals zillions of stars in vast void.

I explore this world with Death as my friend
who shows me name and deed of every soul
who wakes for its brief flash of conscious hope
through endless spinning of our wheel of fate,
and reincarnates in child of her child,
ten thousand generations now in me.

1 comment:

  1. The beginning and ending stanzas marvelously tie together this gift