Name Of Our Faceless God
© Surazeus
2018 02 13
The door to my heart on the wind-swept hill
leads to the weird labyrinth of broken mirrors
where every face I see is not my own
since I wear the masks that dead people lost.
I stop before the door of every home
in every town from sea to shining sea
and take the faces of the lonely dead
to record their names in the Book of Souls.
When from the shadows of the hungry church
the blind priest tries to steal name book from me,
I hide it behind the numberless door
that leads nobody back to paradise.
Millions of people starving for potatoes
sail leaking ships forth to the Promised Land
where they carve their faces on old dead trees
before they vanish in the winds of time.
The ghosts of my ancestors crowd my head,
all clamoring to speak through my broken mask,
but people see in mirror of my face
the characters they fashion for themselves.
I play the noble character who acts
according to the principle of justice
the last emperor of the world designed
before he fell dead on the temple floor.
So that is why I step through mirror door
and fly along the labyrinth of lost tales
then take my face from ancient gallery
to play god before I drop dead in turn.
I want to marry the hyacinth girl
but on my knees in bombed cathedral hall
I sort fragments of our shattered world view
to forge new god-mask I can wear on stage.
The apparitions of prophets and kings
like petals on the web black bough appear
as porcelain masks on the Tree of Life
who reveal the name of our faceless god.
Though I float in my tin can lost in space
above blue planet that cannot be transformed
by Jesus into perfect paradise,
I watch history play in the diamond eye.
When I float lost, one hundred thousand miles
from home, I become the angel of the light
who knows the secret of eternal life,
which I keep hidden in the egg of code.
Though there is nothing helpful I can do
about our planet blooming with green ghosts,
in mask of Orpheus I sing disguised
as the man who fell to Earth without wings.
I cannot lead you from the Underworld
because you must wear your own broken mask
but I can sing the spell of rippling water
while we dance on sharp edge of the abyss.
Together through the labyrinth of dark lies
we can follow the mirrors of past selves
to evolve into the true self we make
from shattered fragments of the window eye.
Beyond the walls of putrid paradise
we explore the perimeter of truth
to experience the process of rebirth
when mankind first rose from sea of dreams.
While sitting mute under the apple tree
I hear angels of light singing through water
so I translate the visions they reveal
in prophecies I carve on melting ice.
Four directions spread out from temple hall
where Ishtar taught me the secret of life,
so I float in the White Whole of creation
and mold one new mask from ten trillion faces.
The apparitions of mothers and fathers
like petals on the wet black bough reveal
eternal spirit of God that I Am
so I invent name of our faceless god.
© Surazeus
2018 02 13
The door to my heart on the wind-swept hill
leads to the weird labyrinth of broken mirrors
where every face I see is not my own
since I wear the masks that dead people lost.
I stop before the door of every home
in every town from sea to shining sea
and take the faces of the lonely dead
to record their names in the Book of Souls.
When from the shadows of the hungry church
the blind priest tries to steal name book from me,
I hide it behind the numberless door
that leads nobody back to paradise.
Millions of people starving for potatoes
sail leaking ships forth to the Promised Land
where they carve their faces on old dead trees
before they vanish in the winds of time.
The ghosts of my ancestors crowd my head,
all clamoring to speak through my broken mask,
but people see in mirror of my face
the characters they fashion for themselves.
I play the noble character who acts
according to the principle of justice
the last emperor of the world designed
before he fell dead on the temple floor.
So that is why I step through mirror door
and fly along the labyrinth of lost tales
then take my face from ancient gallery
to play god before I drop dead in turn.
I want to marry the hyacinth girl
but on my knees in bombed cathedral hall
I sort fragments of our shattered world view
to forge new god-mask I can wear on stage.
The apparitions of prophets and kings
like petals on the web black bough appear
as porcelain masks on the Tree of Life
who reveal the name of our faceless god.
Though I float in my tin can lost in space
above blue planet that cannot be transformed
by Jesus into perfect paradise,
I watch history play in the diamond eye.
When I float lost, one hundred thousand miles
from home, I become the angel of the light
who knows the secret of eternal life,
which I keep hidden in the egg of code.
Though there is nothing helpful I can do
about our planet blooming with green ghosts,
in mask of Orpheus I sing disguised
as the man who fell to Earth without wings.
I cannot lead you from the Underworld
because you must wear your own broken mask
but I can sing the spell of rippling water
while we dance on sharp edge of the abyss.
Together through the labyrinth of dark lies
we can follow the mirrors of past selves
to evolve into the true self we make
from shattered fragments of the window eye.
Beyond the walls of putrid paradise
we explore the perimeter of truth
to experience the process of rebirth
when mankind first rose from sea of dreams.
While sitting mute under the apple tree
I hear angels of light singing through water
so I translate the visions they reveal
in prophecies I carve on melting ice.
Four directions spread out from temple hall
where Ishtar taught me the secret of life,
so I float in the White Whole of creation
and mold one new mask from ten trillion faces.
The apparitions of mothers and fathers
like petals on the wet black bough reveal
eternal spirit of God that I Am
so I invent name of our faceless god.
No comments:
Post a Comment