Lost Seeds Of Tomorrow
© Surazeus
2017 12 28
I want to climb the ancient bridge of sorrow
and caress the stars that conceal your name
so we will sprout from lost seeds of tomorrow
and join the project of the empire game.
The beat of drums and spiral of bone flutes
swirls deeper in the heart of naked flight
because we know the pattern of the roots
that weave our spirits with nourishing lights.
We break from eggshell of the castle walls
and dance on writhing roads of serpent eyes
to chase our own shadows in mirror halls
which lead us back to flare of crashing skies.
I am the lightning of the urgent word
that flashes long before the thunder boom
so when I rise up from obedient herd
I lead my people through the silent gloom.
I climb stone stairway to glass palace hall
where statues of our dead gods stare at death
then carve red runes of visions on white wall
that teach our children how to charge with breath.
I sit with Shiva on steep mountain slope
to dream the spiral eye of mushroom beams
so when I calculate the cosmic scope
I will know why light flows in changing streams.
I break that mask that long concealed my face
and run on wings of laughter through the streets
where people chase the rainbow in rat race
and transform roles recording noble feats.
I disappear into the programmed I
that I designed to play the wizard king,
but when the world became my looking eye
I flew like Icarus on crippled wing.
Now I explore the waste land of your dreams
where you show me fear in handful of dust
so we cooperate in sporting teams,
competing to achieve the perfect trust.
The face I see in convex mirror swells
far larger than the silk balloon I fly
so tribesmen worship me as god of bells
when I descend on beams from flashing sky.
The history of the world glows in our brains,
preserved by archetypes of epic hero
who dances chanting spells to sparkle rains
so Aryabhata dreams the thought of zero.
From bottomless abyss on wings of fire
we rise from rain-wet mud to dance on hills
and tender fragile flame of soul desire
to shine the light of truth with anguished thrills.
When aching cry from broken heart ascends
to flash explosions in the lightless void
that hour on music scale my soul transcends
this muddy flesh of the duteous android.
Then I will climb hierarchic steps of power
to grasp the scepter of wisdom with plan
to base new empire on the blooming flower
and build new heaven for my wandering clan.
Should we crown as queen the hyacinth girl
who leaps through the looking-glass of my heart
so she carves model of Earth on small pearl
that reveals how to live on cosmic chart?
She gathers lost souls on flat pyramid
where we tend flame of truth in blazing night
to sing in choir of hope on solid grid
coding tales of heroes who defend right.
© Surazeus
2017 12 28
I want to climb the ancient bridge of sorrow
and caress the stars that conceal your name
so we will sprout from lost seeds of tomorrow
and join the project of the empire game.
The beat of drums and spiral of bone flutes
swirls deeper in the heart of naked flight
because we know the pattern of the roots
that weave our spirits with nourishing lights.
We break from eggshell of the castle walls
and dance on writhing roads of serpent eyes
to chase our own shadows in mirror halls
which lead us back to flare of crashing skies.
I am the lightning of the urgent word
that flashes long before the thunder boom
so when I rise up from obedient herd
I lead my people through the silent gloom.
I climb stone stairway to glass palace hall
where statues of our dead gods stare at death
then carve red runes of visions on white wall
that teach our children how to charge with breath.
I sit with Shiva on steep mountain slope
to dream the spiral eye of mushroom beams
so when I calculate the cosmic scope
I will know why light flows in changing streams.
I break that mask that long concealed my face
and run on wings of laughter through the streets
where people chase the rainbow in rat race
and transform roles recording noble feats.
I disappear into the programmed I
that I designed to play the wizard king,
but when the world became my looking eye
I flew like Icarus on crippled wing.
Now I explore the waste land of your dreams
where you show me fear in handful of dust
so we cooperate in sporting teams,
competing to achieve the perfect trust.
The face I see in convex mirror swells
far larger than the silk balloon I fly
so tribesmen worship me as god of bells
when I descend on beams from flashing sky.
The history of the world glows in our brains,
preserved by archetypes of epic hero
who dances chanting spells to sparkle rains
so Aryabhata dreams the thought of zero.
From bottomless abyss on wings of fire
we rise from rain-wet mud to dance on hills
and tender fragile flame of soul desire
to shine the light of truth with anguished thrills.
When aching cry from broken heart ascends
to flash explosions in the lightless void
that hour on music scale my soul transcends
this muddy flesh of the duteous android.
Then I will climb hierarchic steps of power
to grasp the scepter of wisdom with plan
to base new empire on the blooming flower
and build new heaven for my wandering clan.
Should we crown as queen the hyacinth girl
who leaps through the looking-glass of my heart
so she carves model of Earth on small pearl
that reveals how to live on cosmic chart?
She gathers lost souls on flat pyramid
where we tend flame of truth in blazing night
to sing in choir of hope on solid grid
coding tales of heroes who defend right.
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