Passion Of Electra

Passion Of Electra
© Surazeus
2018 04 27

What can I say when dead tired at midnight
to convince you that I can weave the light
except to show you by arranging words
that reveal from mist in the Cave of Delphi
secrets I see in the mirror of the tripod
how we are not angels who fell from stars
but animals our mothers mold from atoms,
so let us sing the passion of Electra.

The shining sun beams photon rays of soul
which swirl around the sphere where we perceive
visions in sharp flicker of light on water
our brains translate to vibrant melodies
which surge from deep within our aching hearts
when we hold hands, hushed in the Cave of Delphi,
while Pythia sits on the tripod of words
so we can sing the passion of Electra.

Gazing past weird illusion of the cave,
where shadows of things flicker on the wall,
I chew laurel leaves and lament the loss
of gold-haired Daphne who fled from my love,
then prophesy ninth coming of the woman
who will defeat the tyrant of the gold
by riding the milk cow to temple hall
where I will sing the passion of Electra.

When I rise from the dead after midnight,
revived when wild Daphne kisses my heart,
I walk the signless road past busy cities
to stroll the sea shore where ocean waves sing
explaining calculus of divine curves,
then sit on tripod in the Cave of Delphi
to breathe the spirit of the dreaming Earth
before I sing the passion of Electra.