Hawk Of Our Dead Moon

Hawk Of Our Dead Moon
© Surazeus
2017 05 10

The hawk silhouetted black on the roof
at dawn when the full moon shimmers light pink
through the trees shrouded in haze from fire smoke
reveals the spark of life that burns my heart.

What wild flame of inspiration flashed bright
from the crackling neurons of my sponge brain
and caused my fingers to dance on black keys
that beamed letters from visions of my eyes.

I give you the key I forged from god bones
so you open wide the numberless door
and follow my song through the labyrinth
where faces of the dead watch us from walls.

The hawk soars down swift from the mountain cave
where the devil holds emerald in his hand
which contains in its flashing molecules
the entire history of our universe.

How bitter-sweet the false mind-numbing faith
that Jesus will raise us all from mute death
so we can live forever in lush garden
eating fruit from trees that grow from our hearts.

I drive time machine on endless highway
spiraling through towns sea to shining sea
where ten thousand blind angels in book stores
read poetry from new bible of our lives.

I organize the process of my death
according to the numbers of my clock
which calculate chemical lust for luck
when atoms sparkle clear with divine soul.

Amazed to be alive, I wake each day
and grasp matter of the world with my hands
to mold machines from rocks with Vulcan fire
and weave computers in the Brain of God.

The hawk of our dead moon watches me type
magic spells that glow on computer screen,
but Sky Walker never explains why I
am me and no one else who ever lived.

We dance around each other in the home
of nine windows by the small lake of eyes,
so I listen to the wind rippling waves
explain nothing except we all will die.