Thursday, February 15, 2018

Secret In Puzzles Of Truth

Secret In Puzzles Of Truth
© Surazeus
2018 02 15

What is the key that would open the door
and allow me to enter paradise
where blind angels record the cosmic score
which calculates the harmony of eyes?

What is the code that would reveal the lies
we see in the mirror of dreaming brains,
revealed by galactic coils in disguise
so we comprehend what the Book contains?

I stand before gates of Heaven at dawn
and listen to angels sing holy hymns
while I wait with the cart of wheat on the lawn
and watch children play where the blind king swims.

I long to enter grand cathedral hall
where unseen god rules on the golden throne
and view paintings of saints on the stone wall
but the priest calls me a wicked old crone.

With magic letters in the Book of Dreams
I write the secret of rebirth from death
but the priest drowned my children in cold streams
before I would reveal the shibboleth.

The Tree of Life with swirling wheels of flame
I see on the mountain where gods dance free
before they play the deadly power game
so I give birth to Queen of Liberty.

I hide the secret in puzzles of truth,
mirrored in the Kabbalah Tree of Spells,
so you must continue as the word sleuth
on quest for the tune lost in water wells.

Beyond perimeter of world you know,
measured by the proverbs your parents spoke,
you can hear the tune in the water flow
so explore despair till you become woke.

On the street of your town my idol sings
magic spells that design mask for your face
so when you hear the rhyme of angel wings
you will feel one with the whole human race.

What is the tune that will harmonize views
of opposing factions who fight for power
to narrate the truth in the daily news
which defines the spirit of America?

What is the song spell that will best express
the strangest dreams that dramatize our lives
so in the temple where devils confess
we may portray love of husbands and wives?

Wherever I roam, sea to shining sea,
west around the globe, to follow the sun,
my heart is my home in land of liberty
as we fight the tyrant who wields the gun.

We stand on the mountain top with our friends
and sign weird spells for the victory of trust,
for the arc of history toward justice bends,
and after death we all return to dust.

Though the fantasy of our noble nation
crumbles with every bomb our war planes fire
we can redeem our souls through wit salvation
if we overthrow the clown of desire.

Who sees the old man in empty white room
who scribbles prophecies on the blank wall
to calculate safest way beyond doom
after kissing the plastic princess doll?

He writes your name in the big Book of Souls
to record your deeds in the War for Truth
so mail to him the list of your true goals
before he dares question your sincere faith.

I encode your dreams in puzzles of verse,
woven in the Kabbalah Tree of Tropes,
so become one with the whole universe
to understand the scheme of psychic hopes.

I sit blind in the Cave of Liberty
and chant weird visions of life and death
while writing spells with Voice of Prophecy
that sparks true spirit with each spiral breath.

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