World Inside My Eye

World Inside My Eye
© Surazeus
2017 09 11

When the blind king mistakes me for Prometheus
and asks me why I named myself Surazeus
I explain I was reborn from Meroveus
but he laughs and shoots bullets at my soul
that scatters into raindrops from the sea
which swirls as the hurricane of ambition
to shroud lush Zarathi with words of wind
because I dream the world inside my eye.

When wily Icarus latches wood frame
of hawk wings on his shoulders to escape
the labyrinth of warriors herding cows,
he howls the name of my last hurricane
and soars into the ether of our dreams
around the world of teeming continents
three thousand years of transforming machines
to fall at last on Carolina sand
where Orville Wright can heal his broken wings
while I still dream the world inside my eye.

I leap far out beyond the walls of Heaven
to soar from golden pyramid of Sophis
and fly into the twin glass towers of Babel
where the blind king of money reigns with rod
of chastisement over huge factories
where robots build the chariot of Ezekiel,
watched over by angels with flaming swords
although I dream the world inside my eye.

God falls screaming from huge tower of gold
nine days and nine nights into flames of Hell
when I knock him off invincible throne
and seat myself where ten thousand old gods,
like El, Aten, Enlil, Ashur, Jehovah,
Mazda, Brahma, Zeus, Jupiter, and Odin,
once wielded diamond scepter of insight
to present myself as Emperor of Earth
who guards the garden where children play free
picking apples from ancient Tree of Life
since now I dream the world inside my eye.

Every god who glimmers in minds of humans
beams from the memory of some great man
whose actions of divine authority
live after his death as glamorous idol
that exists nowhere but inside our brains
through drama of epic tale we replay
in temples dedicated to preserve
story of his life to guide our behavior,
but while I venerate their noble myths
I overthrow them all, those long dead gods,
and stand before you all as living God
to ever dream the world inside my eye.

Yet I am no more real than all those gods,
glamorous illusion projected bright
from words that conjure visions in your minds
so you seem to see idol of my soul
shimmer before your eyes as wavering ghost,
but when you blink I vanish in sunlight,
and you breathe deep the aetherial spirit
of your own consciousness, alive this hour
our shuddering world spins around the sun,
for I am illusion while you are real,
therefore I dream the world inside my eye.

Since Martin Luther stood in shadowed woods
and trembled in terror at lightning strike
to realize we are saved by Grace alone,
then defied king and pope with honest word
that every man and woman on this globe
is equal in the spirit of our love,
and should do good because we are alive,
we common people rise in revolution
to overthrow all normal human beings
who dare to crown themselves as gods on Earth,
rejecting claims of kings that they should rule
as representatives of divine God,
and choose to dream the world inside my eye.

No conscious god who created all things
exists except as glamorous idol in our minds,
conjured by arguments of greedy priests
who con the people suffering in life
with lie that we will resurrect from death
and live forever in pure paradise,
for we are aggregates of pulsing atoms
whose brains model the swirling universe
which always dream the world inside my eye.

Ten thousand years our forefathers believed
that thundering hurricanes of blasting wind
are conscious gods who hurl hot thunderbolts
and punish us for acting on our will
because the priest, who came from ziggurat
of some little weak mortal man, proclaimed
that he was all-powerful god who knows
everything we do since he can see all,
but now we know that blasting hurricanes
are mindless swirls of air and flashing rain
and kings are nothing more than mortal men
who further dream the world inside my eye.

I am Surazeus, frail bag of meat
that sustains fragile brain sparkling with dreams,
one lone nobody in his nowhere land
among billions of people on this world,
all breathing air and drinking rain with hope
to live at least one hundred fertile years
before our bodies crumble to dry dust
that settles on lush fields where apple trees
convert the cells that once composed our bodies
into apples children eat when they play
and likewise dream the world inside my eye.

I see two towers of steel and glass explode
when believers in fantasy of God
crash planes into symbols of divine power
instead of building new things to create
better cities where everyone can thrive
together in cooperation of work,
dancing together in temple of stories,
and share we dream the world inside my eye.

Flee the burning towers of fallen churches
where preachers con you for your dollar bills
with promises of paradise in Heaven
they cannot keep until after you die,
and find true eternal spirit of God
flashing in the neurons of your own brains,
for every one of us mortals in flesh
are atoms awake with rich consciousness
who wants to dream the world inside my eye.

We are the dead reborn to walk this world
in children their bodies create from atoms
thus we replay ancient dramas of power
in games deciding who will eat or die,
so I sit alone and stare at the sky
until I dream the world inside my eye.