Doors In Red Rain
© Surazeus
2017 12 01
When I first arrived in this nameless land
I brought the broken moon in my left hand
to scatter apple seeds along the streets
where long-dead god once accomplished great feats.
New words I learn from strangers twist my mouth
no matter if I travel north or south
but where I multiply my secret eyes
I leave young children I drew from the skies.
My mother fills my head with wordless dreams
which I leave as snake eggs by forest streams
when I escape into the wilderness
where on the oak I hang her tattered dress.
On misty night I wear her face as mask,
remembering when she was pregnant with me,
but she died before I could think to ask
where she hid the treasure of liberty.
Another bridge on endless road of hope
bears my weight where the crippled angels mope,
and they refuse to tell me why the light
of ancient stars still flashes from my heart.
Now I wait mute on cold sand of the bight
with all my empty books stashed in the cart
to ponder why kings in hard castle towers
forget how bees brew honey from sweet flowers.
No matter if the king who rules the land
with the sword and the rifle in each hand
is good or evil in the sight of men
I hear weird truth in the song of the wren.
Each time I find myself play the strict role
that blind prophets insist defines my soul
I slip away and leave that mask behind
while I weave new name to conceal my mind.
When I was lost in the waste land of fear
wise Sordello appeared with wind-blown hair
and placed the scroll of visions in my brain
so I can walk through the doors in red rain.
I walk along the winding river shore
and paint your faces on your new house door
so when you lose your true name in the dirt
you can see your soul in the crystal chert.
Though my ancestors arrived in this land
four hundred years ago on wind-swept strand
I travel to new towns with cracked guitar
and sing how all things pulse from the first star.
Now that I dwell in the dream of this land,
I build new castle from words of my head,
and here beneath this true of fruit I stand
till the world crumbles and I will be dead.
© Surazeus
2017 12 01
When I first arrived in this nameless land
I brought the broken moon in my left hand
to scatter apple seeds along the streets
where long-dead god once accomplished great feats.
New words I learn from strangers twist my mouth
no matter if I travel north or south
but where I multiply my secret eyes
I leave young children I drew from the skies.
My mother fills my head with wordless dreams
which I leave as snake eggs by forest streams
when I escape into the wilderness
where on the oak I hang her tattered dress.
On misty night I wear her face as mask,
remembering when she was pregnant with me,
but she died before I could think to ask
where she hid the treasure of liberty.
Another bridge on endless road of hope
bears my weight where the crippled angels mope,
and they refuse to tell me why the light
of ancient stars still flashes from my heart.
Now I wait mute on cold sand of the bight
with all my empty books stashed in the cart
to ponder why kings in hard castle towers
forget how bees brew honey from sweet flowers.
No matter if the king who rules the land
with the sword and the rifle in each hand
is good or evil in the sight of men
I hear weird truth in the song of the wren.
Each time I find myself play the strict role
that blind prophets insist defines my soul
I slip away and leave that mask behind
while I weave new name to conceal my mind.
When I was lost in the waste land of fear
wise Sordello appeared with wind-blown hair
and placed the scroll of visions in my brain
so I can walk through the doors in red rain.
I walk along the winding river shore
and paint your faces on your new house door
so when you lose your true name in the dirt
you can see your soul in the crystal chert.
Though my ancestors arrived in this land
four hundred years ago on wind-swept strand
I travel to new towns with cracked guitar
and sing how all things pulse from the first star.
Now that I dwell in the dream of this land,
I build new castle from words of my head,
and here beneath this true of fruit I stand
till the world crumbles and I will be dead.
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