Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Nameless Dead Of Elysium

Nameless Dead Of Elysium
© Surazeus
2017 04 11

Floating in wood canoe on clear blue lake
where birds write mysteries on the silent sky,
I think of all the people without names
who were killed in revolutions and wars.

I dip my fingers in the clear blue lake
and write their names with stories of their lives
in ever-flowing currents of lost time
since I can hear their voices in the wind.

Setting wood guitar on my knees, I pluck
vibrating strings in the fabric of space,
then sing into the silver microphone
aching sorrow of hope in sparkling lake.

Breathing deep cool wind on the clear blue lake,
I inspire eternal spirit of light
who wakes inside galaxy of my brain
where everyone killed still lives in my dreams.

Each atom that composes taut network
of neurons sparkling visions in my brain
once jolted bright in ancient lightning strikes
sparked by waves of sunlight winding our globe.

I still feel each flash of lightning, and splash
of raindrops on leaves of trees that sprout fruit,
pulsing in the atoms of my body
when I eat apples of paradise.

The big bang at the beginning of time
booms melodies of laughter in my cells
when atoms forged in furnace of the sun
pulse in throbbing lust for pleasure of love.

I shove my hand in wet rain-pungent soil
to smell the souls of creatures who once lived
billions of years since we crawled from deep sea,
then recite the lost names of all the dead.

Grasping hammer and chisel in my hands,
I climb every granite mountain that stands
blind and silent around the world to carve
face of every person who lived and died.

After we are all dead, and the atoms
of our brains nourish flowers by clear lakes,
our nameless faces carved on mountain cliffs
will watch every new creature who evolves.

When rising ocean waves from melting ice
flood maze of steel-glass cities, we will walk
together on signless roads to the mountains
to stare at our faces in clear blue lakes.

When red sun rays vanish as the world turns
we will gather around fires in stone rings
and erase our stories from memory
so nothing but the wind will sing in trees.

Dipping paddle in shimmering lake of eyes,
I steer canoe toward misty hollow cove
where you, the faceless person I invent,
waits like smoke drifting from the burned-out fire.

You give me mask of your face so I give
persona found buried in mud by tree
where three ravens explain why we must die
because starlight flares in gem of my eye.

Walking alone in the forest of pines,
I follow the trail thousands of feet trod,
but hymns sung in church by girls in white gowns
transform into chanting spells I compose.

I pluck guitar strings that cause stars to gleam
while the girl with three eyes holds my heart
transformed into sparrow with broken wing
who knows the true way to Elysium.

Though I search caverns where diamonds gleam bright,
and trackless forests where wolves howl at night,
I never find spirits of people killed
so I can record the dreams of their brains.

They are all lost forever from the dream
of our world, all those people who once lived,
souls numberless as the leaves on fruit trees,
each one a single drop in vast swirling sea.

Though the names of the most famous souls
are recorded in legends of old books,
the names of most are but dust in the wind,
not even carved on stones where bodies rot.

Floating in wood canoe on clear blue lake
where mist reveals the faces of the dead,
I sing wordless melody of my love
for the dead who live in each water drop.

Though I could sing tales for ten thousand years
I could not sing the tale of every person
who once explored the landscape of our world,
so why lament faceless souls of our cells?

Alone in swirling mist on the lake shore
I feel nameless dead of Elysium
pulsing inside the atoms of my body,
but they vanish when I write their true names.

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