Astrophil My Guide
© Surazeus
2018 01 07
I wander goalless in vast urban maze
that tangles straight streets of America,
and wonder at the meaning of fast cars,
swift time machines that zoom into the wind,
when gentle shepherd from lush English hills
appears from mist like Satyr dancing wild,
and plays sweet melody on thin bone flute
that transports my soul from Seattle streets
to strange Arcadian woods of Penhurst Place
where Astrophil sings to Stella his love.
Sir Philip Sidney winks, takes my shy hand,
and leads me dancing in the misty woods
where his wise mother, Lady Mary Dudley,
wearing gold crown of sparkling emeralds,
wields diamond-tipped scepter of Titurel,
so I kneel as she plinks it on my head,
then his sweet sister, Mary Herbert, bows
and offers jeweled grail that brims with wine,
and I accept her gift with graceful thanks
then drink the blood of angels in moonlight.
Sweet Mary slips her arms around my waist
and twirls me dancing in the moonlit grove
where fairies swirl on fluttering wings of light
and elves fly somersaulting overhead,
then Astrophil and Stella hold my hands
and lead me running to the ring of stones
where thirty women wearing long white robes
chant ancient spells to draw from seething Earth
enchanting vapors scented by white blooms
of apple trees that fill my head with dreams.
I rise above this weak frail shell of flesh
and spiral outward on vast wings of stars
on humming melodies of beating hearts
till I become vast galaxy of light
so every star that pulses with desire
spins sparkling deep in cells that form my body,
and I remember when I crawled gold stream
of flowing light to stand on river shore
and pluck red fruit from blazing tree of warmth
till I chanted the first word of creation.
I see how we transformed from swimming fish
and crawled up river streams to float in lakes
then climbed high trees to feast on fruit and kiss
till we came down to dance in ocean waves,
but followed cows across the windy plains
and built high ziggurats to reach the stars
where Queen of Stars revealed the magic Word,
then we spread out to populate the world
and gather at Easter to feast with friends,
by Ishtar taught to sing worshipful hymns.
Exhausted from my visions of the world,
transforming from swift swirl of hydrogen
in sphere woven by Sun Spider of love,
I lie in ring of stones to gaze at stars
that pierce my heart with aching love for life
that motivates me to rise at flash of dawn
and walk down to the ancient restless sea
where I sail west across wild storming waves
and walk the misty Massachusetts hills
across Rainbow Mountains to Oregon.
The music of the flute Sir Philip plays
fades softly in the glow of Easter dawn
where I meditate among dreaming trees
that sprinkle dewdrops on my spinning head,
and laughing ravens on the phone lines sing
enchanting melody that teaches me
weird secret of the ancient chanting bards
whose spells ensorcell minds of listeners
to see the apparitions of great heroes
performing deeds of noble sacrifice.
Guided by the sweet tunes of Astrophil,
cousin of my ancestor, Anne Bradstreet,
I rise from visions of eternity
and follow golden path the Muses blaze
to travel eastward back across the land
through endless labyrinth of city streets
to find the temple where Ishtar first stood
and sang creation of the universe
in undulating verses from my heart,
then sing new epic of philosophers.
© Surazeus
2018 01 07
I wander goalless in vast urban maze
that tangles straight streets of America,
and wonder at the meaning of fast cars,
swift time machines that zoom into the wind,
when gentle shepherd from lush English hills
appears from mist like Satyr dancing wild,
and plays sweet melody on thin bone flute
that transports my soul from Seattle streets
to strange Arcadian woods of Penhurst Place
where Astrophil sings to Stella his love.
Sir Philip Sidney winks, takes my shy hand,
and leads me dancing in the misty woods
where his wise mother, Lady Mary Dudley,
wearing gold crown of sparkling emeralds,
wields diamond-tipped scepter of Titurel,
so I kneel as she plinks it on my head,
then his sweet sister, Mary Herbert, bows
and offers jeweled grail that brims with wine,
and I accept her gift with graceful thanks
then drink the blood of angels in moonlight.
Sweet Mary slips her arms around my waist
and twirls me dancing in the moonlit grove
where fairies swirl on fluttering wings of light
and elves fly somersaulting overhead,
then Astrophil and Stella hold my hands
and lead me running to the ring of stones
where thirty women wearing long white robes
chant ancient spells to draw from seething Earth
enchanting vapors scented by white blooms
of apple trees that fill my head with dreams.
I rise above this weak frail shell of flesh
and spiral outward on vast wings of stars
on humming melodies of beating hearts
till I become vast galaxy of light
so every star that pulses with desire
spins sparkling deep in cells that form my body,
and I remember when I crawled gold stream
of flowing light to stand on river shore
and pluck red fruit from blazing tree of warmth
till I chanted the first word of creation.
I see how we transformed from swimming fish
and crawled up river streams to float in lakes
then climbed high trees to feast on fruit and kiss
till we came down to dance in ocean waves,
but followed cows across the windy plains
and built high ziggurats to reach the stars
where Queen of Stars revealed the magic Word,
then we spread out to populate the world
and gather at Easter to feast with friends,
by Ishtar taught to sing worshipful hymns.
Exhausted from my visions of the world,
transforming from swift swirl of hydrogen
in sphere woven by Sun Spider of love,
I lie in ring of stones to gaze at stars
that pierce my heart with aching love for life
that motivates me to rise at flash of dawn
and walk down to the ancient restless sea
where I sail west across wild storming waves
and walk the misty Massachusetts hills
across Rainbow Mountains to Oregon.
The music of the flute Sir Philip plays
fades softly in the glow of Easter dawn
where I meditate among dreaming trees
that sprinkle dewdrops on my spinning head,
and laughing ravens on the phone lines sing
enchanting melody that teaches me
weird secret of the ancient chanting bards
whose spells ensorcell minds of listeners
to see the apparitions of great heroes
performing deeds of noble sacrifice.
Guided by the sweet tunes of Astrophil,
cousin of my ancestor, Anne Bradstreet,
I rise from visions of eternity
and follow golden path the Muses blaze
to travel eastward back across the land
through endless labyrinth of city streets
to find the temple where Ishtar first stood
and sang creation of the universe
in undulating verses from my heart,
then sing new epic of philosophers.
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