Big Book Of Lives

Big Book Of Lives
© Surazeus
2017 12 26

Sun glares on snow of my infinite mind
that vanishes in whisper of pure light
when spirits leap from mirror of the dark
and weave my memories in singing vines.

I accept the special face you design
for me to wear at the party of wealth
though rippling waves of music shroud my heart
in tangled calculations of respect.

I climb the mountain where devils explain
how we can rein our demons to control
how quick we surf the whirling waves of change
to splash the boundless shore of trembling time.

I dance across the bridge of sacred myths
to cross the vast abyss of ennui
and metamorphose Ape to Superman
who overcomes the cracked mirror of death.

I fall into the spiral well of truth
so when I touch the mirror of my eye
all infinite selves I could be smile back
and teach me how to count flashing raindrops.

You hear me sing these magic spells far out
inside the echoing labyrinth of your brains
because we are the children of one god
who first dreamed the world before flowing time.

Descend with me into the Inner World
where every ancestor who forged our souls
appears from nameless mist of aching hope
and calculates the chemistry of love.

So long ago beyond the veil of rain
I disappeared into the mirror world
and still the echo of my song returns
to ripple on the shining streets of fear.

So we assemble puzzle pieces cut
from tattered tapestry of history
to weave our own new Odyssey of faith
that we will find the first homeland of Man.

But when we meet again on avenue
of singing clowns, before the winter storm,
the blind seer takes me to the ocean shore
and shows me where the blazing sun is born.

While you still wander labyrinth of words
she opens doors three turns ahead of you
so you must follow where the thread may lead
till you arrive in factory of souls.

If I could hear ten thousand poets sing
the prophet of the wingless bird might teach
the arcane spell that unlocks molecules
which shimmer in the neurons of our brains.

Since I address this letter to your heart
it flies on angel wings to find your home
and sees you standing in the window glare
attempting to remirror divine eyes.

I kneel and slide my fingers through wet grass
after clinging to the boat for thirty days
and dream I fall up high among the stars
who know the reason I may not exist.

When you attempt to read these magic spells
you might taste your dreams from bottomless wells
that burn your eyes blind to your own true tale
so you worship me as the god who saves.

I lead you to the pool of blinking eyes
where kind Narcissus drowned in blinding pride
and teach you how to drive the whirring plane
from Nirvana back home to lost Elysium.

He stands before the door ten thousand years
to wait the hour the angel without wings
descends from heaven that does not exist
and paints the number of the wisest beast.

So you still wander by my side this hour
among the ruins of our national myth
where broken statues of our heroes lie
amid the fragments of the truth we thought.

Together we can build new temple hall
and carve on granite walls eternal verse
recording formula that codes our genes
each time we engender new thinking soul.

Now let us sit together by the sea
and weave the clear mirroring eyes of stars
in clever tales of new scriptural myths
that record our names in Big Book of Lives.