Ode To Pulsing Atoms
© Surazeus
2018 04 29
When the last harsh wind of winter has blown,
blasting asphalt streets where metal cars chug,
and blustering against thick glass of steel towers,
amid the teeming crowd of faceless souls,
who trudge against brute anger of white snow,
one frail person pauses and gazes up
amazed at the sun blazing through black clouds,
and all the anguish of lost April hope
bursts out like the apple sprig that grows fierce
through jagged cracks in polished veneer
of civilization, stretching toward heaven
aching hands to worship White Whole of Truth.
Though cars race past on rubber tires of greed,
grinding pure snow to slush on asphalt streets,
the one awakened soul, bundled in thick coat
to armor their heart against freezing wind,
reaches both arms to sudden flash of light
when the indifferent sun pierces thick clouds
and flashes photons in their dreaming eyes,
diamonds forged by the burning core of Earth,
so seeds of hope, long sleeping in cold horror,
sprout awake from darkness of hungry death
and begin endless search for perfect truth
they express in spiral of blooming eyes.
Feet aching from exploring beyond walls
of private paradise, where special people
sing hymns of praise to dead god who will never
return on wings of love to resurrect
faithful souls by reconstituting atoms,
I wander nowhere through cold busy streets
of ten thousand cities from coast to coast
and listen to whispers of wordless fear
that hover as clouds over the playing field,
then weave their lost hopes and dreams in new vision
of global cooperation when bold artists
create virtual world which hides our real world.
As I stand on tallest tower in the world
I gaze at vast metropolis of cities,
shining in thick webs of lights coast to coast,
to see atoms are the only real things
that exist as light in the universe,
for there is nothing but the pulsing sparks
of light in the void that will congregate
through chemical interactions of lust
to wake from dream, now aware of myself
writing drama of objects I perceive
when I measure their bounds and qualities,
so I sing like fragile flames in rain storms.
We humans invented concept of God
as Platonic Idea which presents
most perfect example of conscious souls,
the human who creates things with their hands,
for flashing neurons of our dreaming brains,
structured in webs like clusters of galaxies,
generate virtual model of the weird world
we observe, then measure state of existence
to proclaim basic laws that describe physics
in formulas tracing cause and effect,
so I wear mask of the Many-Faced God
to become every soul who ever lived.
Lucretius described our world made of atoms
that compose structures of material things,
while Plato described how the brain perceives
complex universe, and constructs ideas
that define shape and quality of things,
and signifies each existing thing with Word
that organizes things in categories,
thus we define existing things with word
so we can communicate what we dream,
like millions of trees are signed by word Tree,
since astute Titus was the physicist
while Aristocles was the psychologist.
How lucky I am that these pulsing atoms,
of all the atoms in vast universe
flashing in zillions of planets and stars,
constitute this unique soul I express,
for I exist at this small span of time
in all the infinite stretch of expansion,
now here yet nowhere in the flash of change,
so I wake with consciousness of desire
and become God, the great omniscient soul
who dreams each pattern of existing things,
how everything expands from the First Flash
as we evolve in God we want to be.
Now when I look straight at existing things
I try to see beyond the Idea Word,
we agree will signify its basic concept,
and perceive with joy the thing in itself,
becoming one through empathetic play
with pulsing atoms that construct its being,
so I control the effects of my actions
by standing on the street corner to sing
weird visions about the nature of things,
how we spring to life in glowing sunlight
which weaves photons of light to charge our brains
so we become one soul with the White Whole.
© Surazeus
2018 04 29
When the last harsh wind of winter has blown,
blasting asphalt streets where metal cars chug,
and blustering against thick glass of steel towers,
amid the teeming crowd of faceless souls,
who trudge against brute anger of white snow,
one frail person pauses and gazes up
amazed at the sun blazing through black clouds,
and all the anguish of lost April hope
bursts out like the apple sprig that grows fierce
through jagged cracks in polished veneer
of civilization, stretching toward heaven
aching hands to worship White Whole of Truth.
Though cars race past on rubber tires of greed,
grinding pure snow to slush on asphalt streets,
the one awakened soul, bundled in thick coat
to armor their heart against freezing wind,
reaches both arms to sudden flash of light
when the indifferent sun pierces thick clouds
and flashes photons in their dreaming eyes,
diamonds forged by the burning core of Earth,
so seeds of hope, long sleeping in cold horror,
sprout awake from darkness of hungry death
and begin endless search for perfect truth
they express in spiral of blooming eyes.
Feet aching from exploring beyond walls
of private paradise, where special people
sing hymns of praise to dead god who will never
return on wings of love to resurrect
faithful souls by reconstituting atoms,
I wander nowhere through cold busy streets
of ten thousand cities from coast to coast
and listen to whispers of wordless fear
that hover as clouds over the playing field,
then weave their lost hopes and dreams in new vision
of global cooperation when bold artists
create virtual world which hides our real world.
As I stand on tallest tower in the world
I gaze at vast metropolis of cities,
shining in thick webs of lights coast to coast,
to see atoms are the only real things
that exist as light in the universe,
for there is nothing but the pulsing sparks
of light in the void that will congregate
through chemical interactions of lust
to wake from dream, now aware of myself
writing drama of objects I perceive
when I measure their bounds and qualities,
so I sing like fragile flames in rain storms.
We humans invented concept of God
as Platonic Idea which presents
most perfect example of conscious souls,
the human who creates things with their hands,
for flashing neurons of our dreaming brains,
structured in webs like clusters of galaxies,
generate virtual model of the weird world
we observe, then measure state of existence
to proclaim basic laws that describe physics
in formulas tracing cause and effect,
so I wear mask of the Many-Faced God
to become every soul who ever lived.
Lucretius described our world made of atoms
that compose structures of material things,
while Plato described how the brain perceives
complex universe, and constructs ideas
that define shape and quality of things,
and signifies each existing thing with Word
that organizes things in categories,
thus we define existing things with word
so we can communicate what we dream,
like millions of trees are signed by word Tree,
since astute Titus was the physicist
while Aristocles was the psychologist.
How lucky I am that these pulsing atoms,
of all the atoms in vast universe
flashing in zillions of planets and stars,
constitute this unique soul I express,
for I exist at this small span of time
in all the infinite stretch of expansion,
now here yet nowhere in the flash of change,
so I wake with consciousness of desire
and become God, the great omniscient soul
who dreams each pattern of existing things,
how everything expands from the First Flash
as we evolve in God we want to be.
Now when I look straight at existing things
I try to see beyond the Idea Word,
we agree will signify its basic concept,
and perceive with joy the thing in itself,
becoming one through empathetic play
with pulsing atoms that construct its being,
so I control the effects of my actions
by standing on the street corner to sing
weird visions about the nature of things,
how we spring to life in glowing sunlight
which weaves photons of light to charge our brains
so we become one soul with the White Whole.
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