Coming Of Our Messiah
© Surazeus
2018 04 25
The stars the ancient people made friends with
still smile at me in the still of the night
and tell me stories about all the people
who used to wake up in the soft moonlight
and sing to each other while in huge trees
where they cuddled each other and ate fruit.
I still remember the way her hair smelled
and how she wiggled gently on my lap
as she sang about how sun gleams on water
and she pulled from the pulsing of her heart
the little one who looked at me with eyes
of my mother when she sang about stars.
After reading some novel about life
in the big city where fabulous people
talk about the ennui of living well
I walk outside and stand in the moist grass
to look at the stars that reveal the faces
of people who ask me to give them names.
I paint their faces on the red brick walls
of old buildings in the wild urban zones
where empty lots, where nothing ever happens,
wait forlornly inside the barbed wire fence
for the coming of our messiah on clouds
that splatter indifferent rain on cracked windows.
The stars are spheres of burning Helium
that forge whole range of heavy elements
linked together by spiraling electrons
which sparkle genetic strands of our souls
because we eat compact photons of light
beamed through photosynthesis of desire.
I turn around with eager hope of love
when I sense the presence of my young child
but only the shadows of long-dead people
gather around me under twinkling stars
whose whispers activate my typing fingers
so I code dreams of their souls in your minds.
Do you expect coming our our messiah
any day now, the man in robe of fire
descending from the stars on swirling clouds
who will reassemble bodies of flesh
from atoms already part of the dirt
so we are more than memories in words?
Every atom that first composed my body
when my mother generated my brain,
and each atom of all the food I ate
that once constituted my flesh and blood,
are now dispersed in the clouds in the sky
and the dirt of fields where new food plants grow.
Just today as I drove my car back home
I looked at one small fluff of one huge cloud
out of zillions of clouds that have existed
and saw the drops of water that once sparkled
in water I drank forty years ago,
and now they glitter blue in the vast sky.
Every atom that was ever part of me
now flashes somewhere in the huge world,
even now pulsing inside other people,
and yet I feel so alone in my head,
knowing that someday I also will be dead,
and my brain atoms will become sea waves.
Ten thousand years from tonight when you stroll
shining strand of gold sand by hills of grass,
and stop to gaze at my face in the stars,
you will hear these songs I compose this hour
humming wordlessly in the flowing waves
for the atoms in me will be in you.
© Surazeus
2018 04 25
The stars the ancient people made friends with
still smile at me in the still of the night
and tell me stories about all the people
who used to wake up in the soft moonlight
and sing to each other while in huge trees
where they cuddled each other and ate fruit.
I still remember the way her hair smelled
and how she wiggled gently on my lap
as she sang about how sun gleams on water
and she pulled from the pulsing of her heart
the little one who looked at me with eyes
of my mother when she sang about stars.
After reading some novel about life
in the big city where fabulous people
talk about the ennui of living well
I walk outside and stand in the moist grass
to look at the stars that reveal the faces
of people who ask me to give them names.
I paint their faces on the red brick walls
of old buildings in the wild urban zones
where empty lots, where nothing ever happens,
wait forlornly inside the barbed wire fence
for the coming of our messiah on clouds
that splatter indifferent rain on cracked windows.
The stars are spheres of burning Helium
that forge whole range of heavy elements
linked together by spiraling electrons
which sparkle genetic strands of our souls
because we eat compact photons of light
beamed through photosynthesis of desire.
I turn around with eager hope of love
when I sense the presence of my young child
but only the shadows of long-dead people
gather around me under twinkling stars
whose whispers activate my typing fingers
so I code dreams of their souls in your minds.
Do you expect coming our our messiah
any day now, the man in robe of fire
descending from the stars on swirling clouds
who will reassemble bodies of flesh
from atoms already part of the dirt
so we are more than memories in words?
Every atom that first composed my body
when my mother generated my brain,
and each atom of all the food I ate
that once constituted my flesh and blood,
are now dispersed in the clouds in the sky
and the dirt of fields where new food plants grow.
Just today as I drove my car back home
I looked at one small fluff of one huge cloud
out of zillions of clouds that have existed
and saw the drops of water that once sparkled
in water I drank forty years ago,
and now they glitter blue in the vast sky.
Every atom that was ever part of me
now flashes somewhere in the huge world,
even now pulsing inside other people,
and yet I feel so alone in my head,
knowing that someday I also will be dead,
and my brain atoms will become sea waves.
Ten thousand years from tonight when you stroll
shining strand of gold sand by hills of grass,
and stop to gaze at my face in the stars,
you will hear these songs I compose this hour
humming wordlessly in the flowing waves
for the atoms in me will be in you.
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