Goddess Of Theopetra Cave
© Surazeus
2018 01 22
The harmless snake that writhes in agony
and plays dead when threatened by enemies
could be the most apt metaphor I know
for how our society deals with truth.
You cannot know my most authentic voice
because I hide, behind confident mask,
my most intense feelings about the game
of politics that thrashes dragon tails.
I walk out the door of my house each day
and drive my car with you all on wet roads,
then sit at my computer from dawn to dusk
to dream the revolution as chess game.
The clowns who steal from us with charming smile
wear their own faces on the evening news
when they explain the policies they write
to guide the economic growth of bees.
Leaving behind the comfort zone of lies,
I walk among the swarms of honey bees
who pollinate all flowering plants on Earth
and listen to their rainbow songs of love.
If every bee on the Earth were to die,
every fruit and vegetable that we eat
would crumble to the dust of broken dolls,
and our skulls would sing with indifferent wind.
My fear of the world-wide collapse of life
I hide behind the masks of characters
whose faces I hang on the temple wall
where the Many-Faced God knows my real name.
When my heart was broken by selfish greed
who took my love without giving love back
I found infinite fountain of true love
flowing from the crack in mask of my being.
My friends emerged from the cave of illusions
and joined broken shards of my heart with gold
with art of Kintsugi, so now my heart
is holy grail that bears juice for your thirst.
I sit in silent meditation on Sun Hill
before the entrance of the ancient cave
where the Oracle of Wisdom has lived
more than one hundred thousand years of dreams.
Since I was born in hills of Oregon
I must retrace migrant steps of hope east
along the highways my ancestors blazed
to find again that cave outside my heart.
Winding backward on the roads of progress,
I find star cave of the Goddess of Stone
near Meteora on Thessalian plain
where my First Mother taught me how to sing.
The scientists who find her fractured skull
recreate her face with clay of the Earth
so once again she gazes fierce at me
with black eyes that know how the world was made.
Since dawn of time in Theopetra Cave
wise Artemis with eyes that sparkle stars
chanted visions with words that she designed
describing how our universe was born.
Gripping snakes that writhe in each hand, she stands
before the cave of illusions and sings
how Gaia created Earth from tears of rain
that cause apple trees to bloom fruit of love.
Nine thousand years ago in land of Hellas
the Goddess of Theopetra Cave grasped
my beating heart and gazed into my eyes
till I could comprehend the game of thrones.
The game of politics greedy men play
is weirder than the circus full of clowns
where the wily Ring Master tricks our eyes
with bright illusions we want to believe.
When will David appear from the waste land,
bearing tablets of spells from cave of dreams,
and defeat Goliath with stone of truth
like Zeus cast Kronos from the throne of lies?
The arrogant clone of King Midas reigns
in the White House now cluttered with gold idols
of people he touched with corrupting hands
since we would be rich if we wept gold tears.
Backward into the Mirror of Desire
we retreat with tactical plan to leap
laughing through the labyrinth of fake news
to dispel the spell of mind-numbing fear.
The stone goddess, shining in pure moonlight,
dives her face into swirling sea of eyes,
and reveals, through her shadow in the doorway,
eternal love that gives with generous trust.
The Goddess of Theopetra Cave sings
while she molds my body from clay starlight
and weaves my brain from dreams of our ancestors
so I sing their names in Epic of Earth.
© Surazeus
2018 01 22
The harmless snake that writhes in agony
and plays dead when threatened by enemies
could be the most apt metaphor I know
for how our society deals with truth.
You cannot know my most authentic voice
because I hide, behind confident mask,
my most intense feelings about the game
of politics that thrashes dragon tails.
I walk out the door of my house each day
and drive my car with you all on wet roads,
then sit at my computer from dawn to dusk
to dream the revolution as chess game.
The clowns who steal from us with charming smile
wear their own faces on the evening news
when they explain the policies they write
to guide the economic growth of bees.
Leaving behind the comfort zone of lies,
I walk among the swarms of honey bees
who pollinate all flowering plants on Earth
and listen to their rainbow songs of love.
If every bee on the Earth were to die,
every fruit and vegetable that we eat
would crumble to the dust of broken dolls,
and our skulls would sing with indifferent wind.
My fear of the world-wide collapse of life
I hide behind the masks of characters
whose faces I hang on the temple wall
where the Many-Faced God knows my real name.
When my heart was broken by selfish greed
who took my love without giving love back
I found infinite fountain of true love
flowing from the crack in mask of my being.
My friends emerged from the cave of illusions
and joined broken shards of my heart with gold
with art of Kintsugi, so now my heart
is holy grail that bears juice for your thirst.
I sit in silent meditation on Sun Hill
before the entrance of the ancient cave
where the Oracle of Wisdom has lived
more than one hundred thousand years of dreams.
Since I was born in hills of Oregon
I must retrace migrant steps of hope east
along the highways my ancestors blazed
to find again that cave outside my heart.
Winding backward on the roads of progress,
I find star cave of the Goddess of Stone
near Meteora on Thessalian plain
where my First Mother taught me how to sing.
The scientists who find her fractured skull
recreate her face with clay of the Earth
so once again she gazes fierce at me
with black eyes that know how the world was made.
Since dawn of time in Theopetra Cave
wise Artemis with eyes that sparkle stars
chanted visions with words that she designed
describing how our universe was born.
Gripping snakes that writhe in each hand, she stands
before the cave of illusions and sings
how Gaia created Earth from tears of rain
that cause apple trees to bloom fruit of love.
Nine thousand years ago in land of Hellas
the Goddess of Theopetra Cave grasped
my beating heart and gazed into my eyes
till I could comprehend the game of thrones.
The game of politics greedy men play
is weirder than the circus full of clowns
where the wily Ring Master tricks our eyes
with bright illusions we want to believe.
When will David appear from the waste land,
bearing tablets of spells from cave of dreams,
and defeat Goliath with stone of truth
like Zeus cast Kronos from the throne of lies?
The arrogant clone of King Midas reigns
in the White House now cluttered with gold idols
of people he touched with corrupting hands
since we would be rich if we wept gold tears.
Backward into the Mirror of Desire
we retreat with tactical plan to leap
laughing through the labyrinth of fake news
to dispel the spell of mind-numbing fear.
The stone goddess, shining in pure moonlight,
dives her face into swirling sea of eyes,
and reveals, through her shadow in the doorway,
eternal love that gives with generous trust.
The Goddess of Theopetra Cave sings
while she molds my body from clay starlight
and weaves my brain from dreams of our ancestors
so I sing their names in Epic of Earth.
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