Secret Of My Stream

Secret Of My Stream
© Surazeus
2017 12 31

I disappear into my swirl of words
and wear ten thousand masks of long-dead gods
who join with me in morning choir of birds
so dreaming brains grow vines from rancid pods.

I open wide the door of watching eyes
that vanish in the faces of my friends
who pretend they are not government spies
when we walk on gold hills in laughing winds.

I leave the hard cold truth of asphalt roads
to plunge my fingers in succulent soil
where I plant my heart to calculate codes
that vibrate rhythms of our mortal coil.

Each tangled tapestry of words I weave
reveals one fragment of the shattered mirror
when I assemble puzzle to deceive
believers in the deity of error.

I function as the author of my mind
when I map stories of heroic deeds
that break the mask that each great actor signed
before they leave the stage when fame recedes.

I wear my individual ego suit
when I attend the theater at dawn
since black mirror cracks when I play the flute
and seek fertile mate to generate spawn.

I ride the ram of Amon down the street
where hordes of loyal worshippers break free
to sing their own new songs instead of bleat
and cheer global triumph of Liberty.

I wear the mask of genius on the stage
where clowns must imitate Hamlet the Wise
while writing empty words on the blank page
that flashes visions at the gaze of eyes.

I fly beyond the wall of formal rules
and soar above the endless city maze
so I can build new airplane with old tools
and fly to Holy Mountain in the haze.

I dance with muses in the mountain glade
who teach me spells that may enchant the soul
so we invade your town with wild parade
to glorify the girl who bears the scroll.

I write each magic spell in ancient book
you hold now in your eager reverent hands
with anguish of desire to drink from brook
where Athena once ruled all nameless lands.

I carve my signature on mountain cliff
to prove I wrote the story you now dream
so when you crack the code of my name glyph
then you will find the secret of my stream.

I step outside my cabin on the plain
to talk about philosophy with snow
and hear the flashing colors of the rain
because the naked night is when I glow.

I disappear within the pulsing light
that beams from every atom of my soul
so you will never find me in the night
before I weave all visions in one whole.