Great Choir Of Truth
© Surazeus
2018 01 19
Sunlight flickers on the pool of my mind
and flowers blossom from my fingertips,
transforming my dreams into flashing fruit,
so though I walk the crowded city streets,
amid honking cars gliding between towers
of shining glass, I bring the peace of woods,
that flourish on hills above flowing rivers,
with me when I amble through urban maze.
In the placid face of each human being
alive today, I pass on city street,
in ceaseless machinations of production
that oils the engine of economy,
I see the faces of people who lived
the past ten thousand years in distant lands
where our dead ancestors lived long ago.
I see the flicker of their ancient souls
behind the masks of the living today
still echoing from nameless memories,
which casts dim glamor of dramatic plots
to veil my eyes with spirit of their lives,
so though I remember forgotten roles
of interaction our ancestors played
I try to let those emotional waves
wash over me in present hour of life,
for we are new people in this new age,
since our ancestors who clashed are long dead.
I see the children of farmers and kings
swarming around me in the urban maze
who play new roles based on their own desires
in our endless search for pleasure and truth
that motivates our progress through its space,
even though we wear the discarded faces
of ancestors who managed to survive
and generate children before they died.
Each generation writes new cultural tale
about who plays old archetypal roles,
preserved in legends and myths of lost nations,
to represent the spirit of our hopes
in aching quest to transcend fear of death
and live the joy of eternal life now
through rich expression of visions we share
when each person stands on the stage of words
to chant their spell in formula of thoughts
which weaves all our dreams in great choir of truth.
In the middle of the vast teeming city
at the heart of metropolitan maze,
which spreads like mushrooms around our frail globe
that spirals nowhere through abyss of death,
we stand under Irminsul of Humanity,
the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil
that provides fruit which nourishes our souls
when we consume the soul of light and rain,
transforming from plain mortal human beings
into angelic messengers with wings
of divine inspiration that whirls spirals
of genetic coils through our dreaming minds.
Sunlight flickers on the pool of my eyes
so I perceive our teeming world of atoms,
then design virtual model in world view
incorporating all aspects on one sphere
that reflects weird chaos of the real world,
which helps me navigate strange maze of mirrors
and surf relentless waves of constant change
with elegant balance between extremes
of conservation and progress to transcend
horror of death with joy to be alive.
I sit beneath the Tree of Life and sing
visions that flash from seven billion brains
so we can see the Black Whole of One Soul
that spirals from heart of our galaxy
and weaves our bodies and expressive minds
from pulsing atoms in vast web of light
which weaves all our dreams in great choir of truth.
© Surazeus
2018 01 19
Sunlight flickers on the pool of my mind
and flowers blossom from my fingertips,
transforming my dreams into flashing fruit,
so though I walk the crowded city streets,
amid honking cars gliding between towers
of shining glass, I bring the peace of woods,
that flourish on hills above flowing rivers,
with me when I amble through urban maze.
In the placid face of each human being
alive today, I pass on city street,
in ceaseless machinations of production
that oils the engine of economy,
I see the faces of people who lived
the past ten thousand years in distant lands
where our dead ancestors lived long ago.
I see the flicker of their ancient souls
behind the masks of the living today
still echoing from nameless memories,
which casts dim glamor of dramatic plots
to veil my eyes with spirit of their lives,
so though I remember forgotten roles
of interaction our ancestors played
I try to let those emotional waves
wash over me in present hour of life,
for we are new people in this new age,
since our ancestors who clashed are long dead.
I see the children of farmers and kings
swarming around me in the urban maze
who play new roles based on their own desires
in our endless search for pleasure and truth
that motivates our progress through its space,
even though we wear the discarded faces
of ancestors who managed to survive
and generate children before they died.
Each generation writes new cultural tale
about who plays old archetypal roles,
preserved in legends and myths of lost nations,
to represent the spirit of our hopes
in aching quest to transcend fear of death
and live the joy of eternal life now
through rich expression of visions we share
when each person stands on the stage of words
to chant their spell in formula of thoughts
which weaves all our dreams in great choir of truth.
In the middle of the vast teeming city
at the heart of metropolitan maze,
which spreads like mushrooms around our frail globe
that spirals nowhere through abyss of death,
we stand under Irminsul of Humanity,
the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil
that provides fruit which nourishes our souls
when we consume the soul of light and rain,
transforming from plain mortal human beings
into angelic messengers with wings
of divine inspiration that whirls spirals
of genetic coils through our dreaming minds.
Sunlight flickers on the pool of my eyes
so I perceive our teeming world of atoms,
then design virtual model in world view
incorporating all aspects on one sphere
that reflects weird chaos of the real world,
which helps me navigate strange maze of mirrors
and surf relentless waves of constant change
with elegant balance between extremes
of conservation and progress to transcend
horror of death with joy to be alive.
I sit beneath the Tree of Life and sing
visions that flash from seven billion brains
so we can see the Black Whole of One Soul
that spirals from heart of our galaxy
and weaves our bodies and expressive minds
from pulsing atoms in vast web of light
which weaves all our dreams in great choir of truth.
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