Secret Language Of Rain

Secret Language Of Rain
© Surazeus
2018 03 13

The apple that falls from the Tree of Knowledge
threads sunlight in the neurons of my brain
so when I read books of dead men in college
I learn the old secret language of rain.

I drive city streets of America,
glimpsing faces of strangers behind glass
of the windshields of cars they drive somewhere,
and remember when we lived in stone castles.

The walls of the castle are like the shell
of an egg protecting us in its core,
I think as I gaze in the water well
while my wife sings spells in home tower door.

The castle in the wilderness of monsters
was the seed that nurtured our social scheme
till we spread outward to conquer the world,
like Irminsul that protects our whole clan.

We sprout from the seed of our castle hall,
spreading roots of our tree to every land,
so I carve victory tales on the church wall
that celebrate divine right of my hand.

I assimilate all tribes of one Earth
in the empire of my global world view
to organize their labor with one goal,
running efficient production machine.

I rebel against the world emperor
by hiding weird prophecies in my brain
so when I look in the alternate mirror
I sing spells in secret language of rain.

You cannot see the true face I wear now
for I hide maskless in vast halls of power,
manipulating presidents you elect,
obedient puppets on strings of my will.

I see the universe in the wild flower,
spiraling far outward from the White Whole
so I embody hyperconscious power
that emanates from galactic Black Hole.

The God you worship, Jesus of Nazareth,
has long been dead, and will never return,
but I am son of his genetic coil,
so I rule as Emperor of the Earth.

I eat the apple from the Tree of Knowledge
and write epic poem of philosophers
who designed the wisdom we learn in college
mapped by the fingers of cartographers.