First Sun
© Surazeus
2017 09 13
I stand on the roof of the empty church
and drink down the tears of the flashing rain
that falls from the eyes of every lost soul
who once walked alive on this spinning world
whose bodies are the soil where fruit trees grow.
The dreams from the eyes of ten billion mothers
sparkle bright in the neurons of my brain
and generate clear hologram that beams
vision of this world in vast universe
that spirals in maelstrom of pulsing stars.
I stare at the stars of the Milky Way
and ask, why am I me and no one else,
then flap my arms, wishing I were an owl,
but transform into raven in the rain
who hears your voices on telephone lines.
The little girl with hair gold as sun rays
and eyes blue as the clear river of ice
smiles and gives me the red apple she found
that sprouts laughing trees from my rotten brain,
then weaves angel wings from my broken arms.
Berossus son of Marduk grips my hand
and explains how his grandfather Oannes
rose from Erythraean Sea before dawn
and taught him how to picture dreams in words,
then teaches me how to sing light of stars.
I open my mouth and drink down the void
to fill my belly with oceans of life
then dance on the roof of the empty church
to chant weird spells forgotten witches carved
on the bones of dragons in the sea cave.
Stepping back in my car I drive dark road
that winds among trees dancing in gold wind
to chase the sun that flames far across time
and beams on the nameless mountain where Death
sings by the waterfall where I was born.
Can teeming chaos of meaningless why
be measured by rhythmic steps of our dance
and packaged in rows of boxes on shelves
in old dusty store on Londinium street
where the last wizard still makes wooden toys?
When the mute angel stumbles through the wall
from ideal heaven where nothing will change
and beams his soul into body of flesh
will atoms vibrate in chemical flash
to bloom awake my consciousness of self.
I drop my eye on the white Singing Stone
and feel the crack of infinite despair
reveal the blazing light of the Black Hole
that pulses at core of our galaxy
and beams spirit of God through my brain bulb.
My brain scatters into ten billion souls
who remember that hour I crawled hot mud
toward rainbow flashing on the cool fresh pond,
urged by passionate ache of hope to live,
and sang into the timeless silent night.
Ten million years later I feel my heart
still beating the rhythm of spinning Earth
for all the atoms of this seething globe
transform into creatures with dreaming brains
who remember when the first sun was born.
© Surazeus
2017 09 13
I stand on the roof of the empty church
and drink down the tears of the flashing rain
that falls from the eyes of every lost soul
who once walked alive on this spinning world
whose bodies are the soil where fruit trees grow.
The dreams from the eyes of ten billion mothers
sparkle bright in the neurons of my brain
and generate clear hologram that beams
vision of this world in vast universe
that spirals in maelstrom of pulsing stars.
I stare at the stars of the Milky Way
and ask, why am I me and no one else,
then flap my arms, wishing I were an owl,
but transform into raven in the rain
who hears your voices on telephone lines.
The little girl with hair gold as sun rays
and eyes blue as the clear river of ice
smiles and gives me the red apple she found
that sprouts laughing trees from my rotten brain,
then weaves angel wings from my broken arms.
Berossus son of Marduk grips my hand
and explains how his grandfather Oannes
rose from Erythraean Sea before dawn
and taught him how to picture dreams in words,
then teaches me how to sing light of stars.
I open my mouth and drink down the void
to fill my belly with oceans of life
then dance on the roof of the empty church
to chant weird spells forgotten witches carved
on the bones of dragons in the sea cave.
Stepping back in my car I drive dark road
that winds among trees dancing in gold wind
to chase the sun that flames far across time
and beams on the nameless mountain where Death
sings by the waterfall where I was born.
Can teeming chaos of meaningless why
be measured by rhythmic steps of our dance
and packaged in rows of boxes on shelves
in old dusty store on Londinium street
where the last wizard still makes wooden toys?
When the mute angel stumbles through the wall
from ideal heaven where nothing will change
and beams his soul into body of flesh
will atoms vibrate in chemical flash
to bloom awake my consciousness of self.
I drop my eye on the white Singing Stone
and feel the crack of infinite despair
reveal the blazing light of the Black Hole
that pulses at core of our galaxy
and beams spirit of God through my brain bulb.
My brain scatters into ten billion souls
who remember that hour I crawled hot mud
toward rainbow flashing on the cool fresh pond,
urged by passionate ache of hope to live,
and sang into the timeless silent night.
Ten million years later I feel my heart
still beating the rhythm of spinning Earth
for all the atoms of this seething globe
transform into creatures with dreaming brains
who remember when the first sun was born.
Brilliant ending.
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