Thursday, June 8, 2017

Maker Of Light

Maker Of Light
© Surazeus
2017 06 08

Alone in wilderness of talking masks
the boy with three eyes, born inside oak tree,
pours apple cider in new leather flasks
he gives away in the market for free
because the oldest woman in the world
plants apple seeds in the pores of his mind.

Returning home on winding signless road,
the girl who hides her angel wings in coat
of leather shame discards her heavy load
of guilt to jump in the ice lake and float
because the oldest woman in the world
weaves roots of flowers in the eyes of her heart.

Driving new sleek car swift on mountain road,
the man who heals their broken hearts turns wheel
of flashing time to dial the spiral code
which winds back actions of atoms unreal
because the oldest woman in the world
puzzles together his shattered world view.

Beyond the walls of heaven before dawn
the woman with light egg, who knows my name
before I was born, crowns me king from pawn,
and teaches me to play the magic game
because the oldest woman in the world
carves dreamless runes on the plate of my brain.

Though all the blind children of the world play
invented games from long lost memories
of dead ancestors through statues of clay,
Urania will never reveal the keys
because the oldest woman in the world
designs one door special for each born soul.

I watch on flat-top pyramid all night
and stoke the flames that glow on city hearth
because I am the last Maker of Light
who watches star-threads weave life on our Earth
because the oldest woman in the world
reveals the secret of the Flaring Forth.



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