Resurrection Of Their Souls
© Surazeus
2018 04 12
They are all gone now, the ghosts in my head
who haunt me all day with voices of wind
and eyes of sunlight flashing on the water
when they approach me where I sit alone.
The orchard trees that once bore fruit are dead
from unseen spirits blowing in the wind
that swirled inside the body of my daughter
who now lies by the river hard as stone.
I feel it bulging from my throbbing skull,
the monster howling at the blazing moon
in heart-wrenching anguish of wordless shock
at how foul tumors swelled black on their skin.
One day we all were dancing in moonlight,
drinking apple cider and chanting spells
about silly lovers, and we all laughed
with carefree joy as we made love in flowers.
Now everyone lies rotting in the flowers,
bodies bursting from pestilence of fear,
covered by swarms of flies drinking their blood,
and hot voiceless wind suffocates my soul.
What horrible sin did they all commit
that God in Heaven breathed pestilent wind
to kill these beautiful people I loved
so now they rot, and I wander alone?
I look up at the blue sky, crystal shell
turned by angels according to the will
of that cruel God they all worshipped with love,
but I see nothing there but wispy clouds.
After screaming at the sky for nine days,
cursing God for killing my clan,
I laugh because I realize amused
no God dwells out there beyond the blank sky.
The old priest said that God so loved the world
he gave his only son to give us life,
but we were celebrating the rich harvest,
singing hymns of joy, yet they are all dead.
If God of love was dwelling beyond stars
and turning wheel of fortune with his mind
then he would never kill my loving clan,
so I conclude no powerful God exists.
We are alone on this huge spinning globe,
inventing reasons to work hard and play,
yet priests take our money based on plain lie
that God will take us all to live in Heaven.
No loving God would unleash on our heads,
we who attended church and prayed to God,
vile disease that destroys with harsh pain,
so cruel priests invented God to control us.
My mind plays weird tricks on me so I think
spirit of God hovers over waste land
in vengeful wrath, but when I kneel and gaze
in eyes of my daughter I see no soul.
Why am I alive still, of all my clan
still walking and breathing spirit of horror,
I shout at the sky, but no weird God answers,
except in the wind that blows at my face.
I find in ashes of fire small black seed
so I plant it down in dark soil of death
where it sprouts and spreads roots down in gloom
to one day blossom with fruit I can eat.
Now everyone I loved is dead as stone,
and their bodies, once vibrant with desire,
crumble to dust that blows in wind of time
which swirls around me as I watch the river.
Though they all vanished in silence of death,
I am still alive by some freakish chance,
so I sing their names while I tend fruit tree
that grows ever taller from my deep heart.
Though they are dead their spirits dream in me
so they will live again in every child
I generate from passion of my heart
through resurrection of their souls from me.
© Surazeus
2018 04 12
They are all gone now, the ghosts in my head
who haunt me all day with voices of wind
and eyes of sunlight flashing on the water
when they approach me where I sit alone.
The orchard trees that once bore fruit are dead
from unseen spirits blowing in the wind
that swirled inside the body of my daughter
who now lies by the river hard as stone.
I feel it bulging from my throbbing skull,
the monster howling at the blazing moon
in heart-wrenching anguish of wordless shock
at how foul tumors swelled black on their skin.
One day we all were dancing in moonlight,
drinking apple cider and chanting spells
about silly lovers, and we all laughed
with carefree joy as we made love in flowers.
Now everyone lies rotting in the flowers,
bodies bursting from pestilence of fear,
covered by swarms of flies drinking their blood,
and hot voiceless wind suffocates my soul.
What horrible sin did they all commit
that God in Heaven breathed pestilent wind
to kill these beautiful people I loved
so now they rot, and I wander alone?
I look up at the blue sky, crystal shell
turned by angels according to the will
of that cruel God they all worshipped with love,
but I see nothing there but wispy clouds.
After screaming at the sky for nine days,
cursing God for killing my clan,
I laugh because I realize amused
no God dwells out there beyond the blank sky.
The old priest said that God so loved the world
he gave his only son to give us life,
but we were celebrating the rich harvest,
singing hymns of joy, yet they are all dead.
If God of love was dwelling beyond stars
and turning wheel of fortune with his mind
then he would never kill my loving clan,
so I conclude no powerful God exists.
We are alone on this huge spinning globe,
inventing reasons to work hard and play,
yet priests take our money based on plain lie
that God will take us all to live in Heaven.
No loving God would unleash on our heads,
we who attended church and prayed to God,
vile disease that destroys with harsh pain,
so cruel priests invented God to control us.
My mind plays weird tricks on me so I think
spirit of God hovers over waste land
in vengeful wrath, but when I kneel and gaze
in eyes of my daughter I see no soul.
Why am I alive still, of all my clan
still walking and breathing spirit of horror,
I shout at the sky, but no weird God answers,
except in the wind that blows at my face.
I find in ashes of fire small black seed
so I plant it down in dark soil of death
where it sprouts and spreads roots down in gloom
to one day blossom with fruit I can eat.
Now everyone I loved is dead as stone,
and their bodies, once vibrant with desire,
crumble to dust that blows in wind of time
which swirls around me as I watch the river.
Though they all vanished in silence of death,
I am still alive by some freakish chance,
so I sing their names while I tend fruit tree
that grows ever taller from my deep heart.
Though they are dead their spirits dream in me
so they will live again in every child
I generate from passion of my heart
through resurrection of their souls from me.
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