Primal Ego
© Surazeus
2017 11 23
The dead walk the Earth alive in our eyes
so we dream their lost wisdom through our lives,
and though they looked for God in empty skies
we find divine consciousness in our minds.
When news on television of conflicts
between aggressive nations burns my heart
I wander among trees, contemplating tricks
to rebuild our world view broken apart.
The vast puzzle of ideologies
lies scattered on the table of our globe
so all together we now seek the keys
that would unify each cultural lobe.
The lattices of cultural systems weave
opposing principles in one world view
so we stroll together in peaceful eve
and seek in flowers their eternal clue.
I hold the apple shining in my hand
and dream how we first plucked it from the sun
then planted trees across the fertile land
on sparkling river shores where children run.
The world is made of atoms forming shapes,
complex structure of interacting parts,
so we evolve to gods from talking apes
who drive fast cars we built from horse-drawn carts.
The chemical interaction of atoms
calculates the changing process of time
so organisms composed of slick stratums
hold hands around hearth fires and sing in rhyme.
Though the ancient center of social power
could not unite nations clashing in war
the little girl who gives me sacred flower
will reign as world goddess in mirror door.
When she ascends the pyramid of song
she chants how actions create or destroy
structure of things in game of right and wrong
so we experience both sorrow and joy.
My first mother four hundred years ago
gazed at sunlight streaming through singing trees
and taught me the magic of how winds blow
to breathe divine spirit from river breeze.
Anne gazes down at me with silver eyes
and sighs, "Many times Satan troubled me
concerning truth in Scriptures, or vast skies,
while I wandered to think by singing sea."
"How could I know whether there was a God,
since I never saw any miracles
to confirm me, and those which I read of,"
Anne laughs, "how did I know but they were feigned."
I gaze at empty sky where sunlight beams
blue because light rays bounce off molecules,
and feel her questioning spirit in dreams
speak through my verse like Delphic oracles.
Though Anne Bradstreet saw in beauty of nature
perfect design of the Great Architect,
I see chemical keys in every feature
connect atoms through progressive project.
I stand on the pyramid of Far Sight
and watch our planet spin through empty void
while the mindless sun beams thick rays of light
which transforms carbon into Humanoid.
I long to fly home across stormy seas
and walk again through mist of Avalon
to drink honey mead brewed by singing bees
with our First Father, laughing Apollon.
I stand on street corner in strange nameless town
to chant ancient tales modern man forgot
but though they laugh at me as foolish clown
I wake from Wonderland as mute robot.
I carve my secret name on crystal stone
and walk the labyrinth of our new empire
to write vision of creation with bone
carved as quill from the wings of Icarus.
I remove the mask of I that conceals
primal ego of my genetic coil,
then exit cave of Plato which reveals
how empires are built on seeds in moist soil.
When I searched for God in our world of things
I found atoms pulsing with divine light,
so I fly around the globe on steel wings
and conjure visions of life when I write.
© Surazeus
2017 11 23
The dead walk the Earth alive in our eyes
so we dream their lost wisdom through our lives,
and though they looked for God in empty skies
we find divine consciousness in our minds.
When news on television of conflicts
between aggressive nations burns my heart
I wander among trees, contemplating tricks
to rebuild our world view broken apart.
The vast puzzle of ideologies
lies scattered on the table of our globe
so all together we now seek the keys
that would unify each cultural lobe.
The lattices of cultural systems weave
opposing principles in one world view
so we stroll together in peaceful eve
and seek in flowers their eternal clue.
I hold the apple shining in my hand
and dream how we first plucked it from the sun
then planted trees across the fertile land
on sparkling river shores where children run.
The world is made of atoms forming shapes,
complex structure of interacting parts,
so we evolve to gods from talking apes
who drive fast cars we built from horse-drawn carts.
The chemical interaction of atoms
calculates the changing process of time
so organisms composed of slick stratums
hold hands around hearth fires and sing in rhyme.
Though the ancient center of social power
could not unite nations clashing in war
the little girl who gives me sacred flower
will reign as world goddess in mirror door.
When she ascends the pyramid of song
she chants how actions create or destroy
structure of things in game of right and wrong
so we experience both sorrow and joy.
My first mother four hundred years ago
gazed at sunlight streaming through singing trees
and taught me the magic of how winds blow
to breathe divine spirit from river breeze.
Anne gazes down at me with silver eyes
and sighs, "Many times Satan troubled me
concerning truth in Scriptures, or vast skies,
while I wandered to think by singing sea."
"How could I know whether there was a God,
since I never saw any miracles
to confirm me, and those which I read of,"
Anne laughs, "how did I know but they were feigned."
I gaze at empty sky where sunlight beams
blue because light rays bounce off molecules,
and feel her questioning spirit in dreams
speak through my verse like Delphic oracles.
Though Anne Bradstreet saw in beauty of nature
perfect design of the Great Architect,
I see chemical keys in every feature
connect atoms through progressive project.
I stand on the pyramid of Far Sight
and watch our planet spin through empty void
while the mindless sun beams thick rays of light
which transforms carbon into Humanoid.
I long to fly home across stormy seas
and walk again through mist of Avalon
to drink honey mead brewed by singing bees
with our First Father, laughing Apollon.
I stand on street corner in strange nameless town
to chant ancient tales modern man forgot
but though they laugh at me as foolish clown
I wake from Wonderland as mute robot.
I carve my secret name on crystal stone
and walk the labyrinth of our new empire
to write vision of creation with bone
carved as quill from the wings of Icarus.
I remove the mask of I that conceals
primal ego of my genetic coil,
then exit cave of Plato which reveals
how empires are built on seeds in moist soil.
When I searched for God in our world of things
I found atoms pulsing with divine light,
so I fly around the globe on steel wings
and conjure visions of life when I write.
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